A New Moon Rises
by GoGo SpaceMan
Summary: The newest champion in the League of Legends faces the hardships of his past, fights to achieve his important goal, and falls into the bittersweet hands of love. Typically suited for anybody 17 and older.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

Some time past the witching hour, a short and slender silhouette of a man walked quietly through the dark, Great Hall of the Institute of War. He kept his mouth silent and his mind empty of thought. The place was odd, and it created an eerie feeling in him. Some examples were the radiating glow of dark blue that pumped out of the smooth, stone walls extending hundreds of feet up toward the distant ceiling, and the consistent sound of many soft whispers of men and women even though he was alone in the Hall. But how could he be sure of that?

The bottom of his silver cloak billowed as he neared the tallest door he had ever witnessed. A hooded man, a little shorter than he, stood by with his head down. The sound of millions of whispers grew louder as he approached the other man and the tall door. He pulled his cloak around his head tighter as his nerves tensed.

Our lonesome figure stopped in front of his destination. The ends of his cloak ceased rustling as his feet stood still near the mysterious hooded man. All of the whispers stopped abruptly. Without even looking up, he began to speak. His voice was quiet, calm, and reassuring.

"Damien. A pleasure to see you've made it. Inside these doors, please."

Damien grunted and stepped a little closer to the doors. He placed his right hand on the adjacent door, and before pushing, looked back at the man. But he was gone. Was he an illusion? The eeriness of the Hall crept up his spine again and he pushed the door open.

**Candidate:** Damien

**Date: **08 January, 22 CLE

**OBSERVATION**

Damien walks through the large doors in caution. The silver cloak, usually shining like the Moon and covering his body, is dull from travel and opened in the front. Below the hood his ragged and dark hair hides his pale face and eyes like silver coins. His shaded belt holds curved, crescent blades cloaked in the dark against his black garments.

The first thing he notices is the lack of a ceiling in the room. A black sky full of shining stars and the glowing full Moon make him feel at home. His steps make audible sounds of which startle him a little. He had trained himself to move silently, a feat which is impossible with the mystic architecture of the Great Hall. A sinking feeling in his stomach began to develop as he further traversed the dark room that seemed to have no end.

**REFLECTION**

The room dissolved into something all too familiar. Damien looked at his hands which had grown smaller. Gravity seemed to have shifted and he felt its strength grow just a little bit. He was about five and a half feet tall, a teenager again. His surroundings resembled that of a mountain village. It was still late into the night, and he was expecting to meet somebody. This was a memory, one certain day in his youth.

Damien was a little distance from the array of buildings in some brush contained in a forest. Peering up he noticed the full Moon and its sad story. To be so beautiful, but to only show itself when nobody was around to admire it. Now he remembered where he was. Mount Targon, home of the Solari. Those that worshipped the Sun. A bitterness spread through him. He and his parents were cast from the village years ago for admiring the Moon. A stupid crime, he thought. He would be murdered on sight, had he been seen at this very moment. The sound of a twig snapping made Damien twitch in surprise and hold himself against the nearest tree to cloak himself.

"Damien?" He heard the sweet voice of a familiar girl.

"Over here." Damien said without thinking.

Some of the bushes in front of him bustled and pushed, and in a few seconds a shadowed figure came into view. She stepped closer to Damien and revealed her face in the Moon's light where the tree's rooftops were absent. It was Leona, a friend of his since his early childhood. Before his banishment, they had fallen in love with one another and met each midnight under the absent eyes of the villagers.

"Damien? Is something wrong?" Leona gasped.

"You know damn well what's wrong," he half-whimpered and hoped she didn't notice. Damien couldn't control himself, he was sitting in his past self's mind and forced to watch the memory play.

"What… What do you mean? Does this have something to do with-?"

"Yes." She was recently taken under the wing of the Solari.

"How is it wrong, to be a Solari?" she questioned.

"How could you do something like this? How could you willingly join a… a _cult_ that nearly killed my family and 'mercifully' exiled us for worshipping the Moon?"

"I revere the Sun. Not the actions of the Solari, Damien." She tried to reason.

He spat on the grass beside where he sat. "Fuck the Sun."

Leona looked around apprehensively. She needed to hold onto Damien's hand for comfort, and she thought maybe he'd need it to. But when their hands met, he flinched and pulled it away.

"Don't touch me."

She felt like she had been slapped, and a tear climbed up into her eye.

"I refuse to believe after all of the sweet things you've said to me and all the time we've spent together that you would be acting this way." Her voice was shaky.

"I refuse to believe that you would betray me like this." He said this robotically, without emotion, "Yet here you are."

Leona stood from the brush and a shadow covered her face. There was a twinkle from a tear traversing down her cheek when she said, "Then I guess I'm not everything you've ever wanted."

She slowly walked out towards the village. Damien's eyes familiarly stung, both his past and present self.

The background faded and reformed to the same spot approximately a week later. Leona stood just outside the forest on the clearing separating it from the village. She was stunned and at a loss for words. Damien stood shaken, leaning on a tree for support. He remembered this was the night his parents were murdered. Leona bucked her courage up out of her chest.

"Damien… What's happened? Why are you shaking?"

"They're looking for me. They've found our home and killed my parents."

"W-what!? Who?" She rushed to him and pinned him to the tree with her arms around his body.

"You know who. The Solari."

"Don't say that..! How can you know for sure?" She gasped

"Who just walks to an exile's house and murders the people in it with no cause? Who the hell would want to kill somebody who loves the Moon? Somebody whose views are _different_?"

"I-Well-I… I'm sorry…" she began to cry.

"Oh, you're sorry?" he asked sarcastically, "That's exactly what I wanted from you. Your apologies won't bring my mother and father back. And they won't change how these people view me as less than a heretic. I'm a beast to them. Or perhaps not even. I'm an abomination on this world that should be killed." A few tears escaped his eyes.

Leona was shaking as she clung to him. She was trying her best to comfort him, he remembered. But he was susceptible to only rage and sadness at the time. The beautiful Moon sat atop the sheet of sky spangled with stars, contrasting with the tragedy that was befallen on him.

"Somebody has to do something about this. I want vengeance." He finally said after many minutes passed.

"Don't say that. Please…"

Anger coursed through him and yanked at his emotion.

"The Solari will pay for their crimes. Somebody's going to repent for what they've done to me. If nobody else can serve justice, then it will have to be me."

"No! Stop! Please don't do something you'll regret!" Her tears were soaking the shoulder of his silver cloak.

"Stop? You think I can stop? Just move on, as if this never happened? As if these monsters did nothing to me, didn't take anything from me? No. I can't. My fucking family was murdered and I couldn't do anything about it. I'm leaving this place, and you can damn well be sure of it that when I return somebody's going to die in the name of me, my family, and the Moon."

"No… If you love me, you won't do anything as foolish as this! Please stay here! With me!"

He shoved her off of him and stood straight from the tree.

"I only love the Moon." He said, and he disappeared into the forest.

Damien was back in the room, surrounded by the black. He was on his knees and his hands over his hood. His head was pounding, whether from sadness or pure rage he did not know. The footsteps coming from a distance closed in on him and eventually stopped.

"Damien. Why did you join the League of Legends?" the voice said.

"To get the word out. Make them suffer for their inhuman deeds." He replied hypnotically. His mind was spilling open as he felt like he was recently tortured.

"That is not all, Damien. Why did you join the League of Legends?"

"I… I heard a rumor. A rumor that somebody was here as well."

"How does it feel, exposing your mind?"

Damien looked up to see another hooded man, shorter than the last, and with a long, gray beard resting on his chest, looking down on him. Damien softly ran his hand on the back of his head over his hood and answered.

"Weak… And painful."

"Welcome to the League of Legends, Damien, The Moon's Whisper ." The old man offered his hand.

Damien ignored it, stood up, and began walking towards the doors. He left, and his footsteps made no noise, but he didn't notice.

* * *

**Author's Note**

This is my first Fan-Fiction for League of Legends, or anything in general, really. I would greatly appreciate some reviews/criticisms of my work. More chapters are on their way, if there are any people actually interested in it.

I'd like to extend a hearty thanks to anybody who took time out of their lives to read this, and, again, I would be flattered if you left criticisms, both positive and negative, on my work so I can improve for future chapters in this story and future works of different kinds later.

- GoGo SpaceMan


	2. Chapter 1 - The Sun and the Moon

**Chapter 1 – The Sun and the Moon**

Damien stepped back into the hallowed Great Hall with a cold sweat lingering under his hair line. Your past really does come back to haunt you, he thought. With a reflection on his youth, he had realized that his yearning for vengeance had controlled him. After leaving Mount Targon, he had lived a life of squalor and eventually used his prowess in combat to become an assassin for hire. His moral code was smashed with his life force being driven by the sole purpose of revenge. Even with his profound skill in dishonorable murder, he hardly scraped enough to survive in the cold slums of whatever city he vacated. He became desensitized to happiness, reason, and love. To stop the Solari's Sun from ever rising again, became his motivation.

"Greetings, new champion. I am a Summoner," a young man in a rich, blue robe greeted him and took him out of his brief silence. He nearly jumped in surprise. "And I am here to help you find your destination."

He didn't speak, only nodded. They walked along the Great Hall and passed many corridors. The young Summoner finally stopped before the entrance of a large wing.

"This hallway is the Champion's Quarters. The mess hall, which looks more like a cantina so we call it that, is in the middle between the left complex, which is where each champion has their accommodations, and the right complex which is where matches and practice sessions are held." He pointed as he explained. "Shall I show you to the Cantina?"

"If you don't mind." Damien said.

The sound of a few groups chattering and dishes clinking together grew in volume as the two young men approached the door-less entrance. In the Cantina was countless numbers of lone tables, booths both large and small, and a few bar counters. Because it was so late, there were maybe ten or so other people in the Cantina, and some of them weren't really people. Hundreds of television sets, each broadcasting the same League match, hung around the blue, stone walls.

"In the Cantina you have your usual cliques. Most groups tend to be just based on where you're from. Most of the Noxians sit with other Noxians, Demacians with other Demacians, you get the point. Although there are quite a few champions here who enjoy being solitary."

Damien nodded, taking in the information while scanning the odd personalities all engaged in drink and merriment.

"There is one rule here in the Institute, Damien." The Summoner took his attention.

"What is that?"

"We don't like fighting outside of matches. All of the champions are dangerous, even you, so we expect responsibilities with everybody's power. There are numerous occasions where a feud between a few individuals ended in violence off of Summoner's Rift and expulsion. We take violence in the League very seriously. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He thought of the way he had lived as an assassin. He would often run into scuffles in inns, but never ended in injuries. It wasn't an interest of his to have attention called to him, resulting in a quick incapacitation of his opponent and disappearing quickly.

"Your room number is 125. Congratulations, Damien, the Moon's Whisper, and welcome to the League of Legends." He finished these last words with genuine courtesy and left him.

Damien looked closely at the characters around the Cantina. In a small booth sat a rat the size of a human child in a dirty, sickly green overcoat with chemical bottles hanging out of the inside pockets, and gleaming jewelry engraved in the many rings splayed on his row of fingers. Every few minutes he'd take a concoction from his overcoat and mix it with the beverage in his cup.

In a little bit larger booth sat two men, engaged in an alcohol-influenced conversation consisting of mostly broken sentences and word slurring. One was the largest man Damien had ever seen, drinking straight from a keg he kept by the booth's seat. Across the table from him was a man in a purple cloak and an odd helmet. What struck him as the weirdest part of him was either the abnormal number of eyes he seemed to have or the crooked lamppost he had set by his seat. Was that his weapon?

Near the back of the Cantina, hidden in the dark, were two shady female figures. One had oddly toned skin and wore almost no clothing. The other had the same skin tone but paler and had on arachnid-like garments on her back. The half-nude one stared at Damien from across the room with a contemptuously seductive smile on her blue lips.

The other people in the room were not enough to garner his attention, and he didn't stick around long. He didn't really have an appetite, especially after his repressed memories had whipped him thoroughly. With a swift turn of his heel, the back end of his cloak billowed up and he made his way to the housing complex.

Room 125 was small but cozy. He spotted his bed and fell in it. Damien slept quietly, with only slivers of dreams of which were only snippets where he relived select memories.

* * *

"Your first day here in the League is usually for learning the rules. You will be given the week to practice your skills on the Rift before being drafted into a team of 5 that will compete in weekly tournaments. It's a chance for honor, glory, and fame; something most, if not all, champions strive for in the League."

Damien was in the right complex of the Champion's Quarters wing, where he was in the company of a few Summoners and hooded staff members. He awoke late and feeling like he hadn't slept at all. It was almost noon and he had skipped breakfast to be briefed in here. The welcoming chatter and smell of food nearly tempted him to ditch his appointment and enter the Cantina.

"The best way to learn the rules, in our opinion, is to enjoy a live match. A practice match had started about ten minutes ago, and you're welcome to watch it in the Cantina. But we'd very much like you back here in the afternoon to begin your practice sessions."

"Don't worry. I'll be here." Damien said casually, and turned toward the Cantina.

He picked an empty booth furthest from any company (which still wasn't very far; the Cantina was packed) and sat with a tray stacked with many different types of food from the buffet counter near the main bar. A glowing blue stone sat in the center of the table and radiated a three-dimensional model of the live match. Damien pushed the tray aside a few inches and pulled the stone forward under his nose. Every sense in his body was on Summoner's Rift, it seemed. He could hear the animals and beasts in the forests and the sound of weapons clashing and the champions' dialogue as they spat insults or even compliments on their adversary's skill. He was enthralled by the match, and hypnotically continued to watch with amazement.

* * *

"_I'll gut you like a fish and feast on your bones!" yelled a gigantic, reptilian humanoid with a peculiarly shaped weapon. He was locked in battle with a tall and muscular man with a square jaw and a giant axe._

"_Try your best against the Hand of Noxus, you disgusting lizard." He coolly taunted._

_The lifeless husks of warriors fought to their ends while these two champions clashed blades and words. With an upward spiral, the reptile's blade gashed the man's arm, and his scaly arm seemed to be rejuvenated when the man's blood flecked onto it. The axeman took the blow heavily and stumbled back. The reptile saw its chance and dashed past him, ripping a part of the human's body clean off of him. Rich blood sprayed onto the lush grass along with gory slips of muscle tissue._

"_You're a pathetic fighter. I have yet to eat my morning meal, maybe I could start with your flesh!" he snarled in triumph._

_The middle-aged man's face showed no emotion, but still held the knowledge of a plan the reptile had no idea of. Immediately, a low and ear-bashing rumbling spread over the Rift and the skies had darkened. The reptile looked upward in disbelief._

"_Daaarkneessss!" a cold, and horrific voice rang past all of the brush and tree._

_A pitch black cloud of billowing smoke bulleted up toward the sky and aimed toward the defeated man and victorious beast. Without a moment's notice, the reptile was gored onto a tree with the black figure's unique Umbra blades cleanly placed through his chest. It looked into the eyes of the Eternal Nightmare and roared in pain. The figure was made of a peculiar black smoke, with no legs. It resembled a ghost. A stream of the black smoke trailed from its arms and was inhaled by the reptile's eyes. All of its fears and horrors played endlessly in its head. Distant screams of terror and visions of monstrosities implanted a mark on the beast's face._

"_A kill is so much more satisfying when they're afraid…" the smoke talked in a hissing sort of voice, and swiftly slid one of its blades from the reptile's torso and beheaded it._

_The reptile suddenly awoke in the fountain, waiting to be released after his "death timer" expired. The middle-aged man could hardly speak through his pain as he drew a chakram around his limp body with a blue chalk and recalled to his fountain. The black smoke hovered into the trees behind him and left the reptile's corpse among those of the fallen minions._

* * *

Damien could hardly eat the selection of food he took in fear of missing part of the match. Soon enough he would be testing his own abilities against many fearsome opponents of equal or better skill. Could he do it? He had to. His desires and plans for the Solari to face penance and to come into company with this person of interest had to be fulfilled. He had almost forgotten his duties while ensnared in the events of the match before his eyes. The match ended with the axeman's team walking home in victory. Their teamwork was so well executed that the match was completely one-sided. He had finished eating just before something caught his eye in the Cantina. Amidst all of the unknown champions he noticed a familiar shape.

Leona sat with a group of other women, her friends Quinn, Kayle, and Luxanna. They were engaged in conversation, but she didn't participate. She drank her tea from a small, obsidian-colored cup provided from the Cantina. The tea always helped her regain strength after recent matches. But it wasn't doing it for her today. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up in fear as she suddenly got the feeling she was being watched. She turned her head and brushed her beautiful red hair from her face to look around. She took no notice of the young man in the silver cloak against a dark booth's seat. Pushing the silly paranoia away, she took a last sip from the cup.

It was when the young man walked past her and made toward the exit that she noticed him. He passed her and seemed to emanate a solemn aura around him. A part of the silver cloak billowed from the front of him and revealed a crescent-bladed dagger that shined bright like the Moon. Her eyes grew wide with realization. It can't be, can it? She thought to herself. The exhaustion from the match must be reaching her head, she concluded, and had followed suit with the young man in returning to her apartment to rest. After all, it was a long and grueling match that ended in a humiliating defeat. Renekton's recklessness and cockiness always caused trouble in the team.

Damien's afternoon briefing and practice sessions went by slowly. It was mostly talking over rules of the game (which were basically just kill, destroy "towers," which were fragile relics you could dismantle after defeating your opponent, and eventually capturing the enemy team's nexus) and the roles of champions and team structures. He had very little practice on the actual Summoner's Rift, but it wouldn't really be needed. The only thing you'd need to get used to is severe pain, he was told. You'll die multiple times but you'll always wake up back in the fountain with all of the injuries healed. He'd obviously never died before, and didn't think he'd enjoy it much. But the point was not to die anyway, which is where the skill would come in. If he was good at surviving, and he's already a professional in killing, or so he believed, he could easily win his matches.

* * *

On his second night, not long after his first practice session, he sat out in the courtyard under a lonely tree in the middle of a clearing and stared up at the silver, half-globe in its throne with the stars. He had learned to embrace his heresy towards his native people, and nurture his hatred of their ways. The hidden beauty that was the Moon had been the only thing that loved Damien. And he loved it back.

"So then I wasn't just seeing things…" a familiar voice said.

He was surprised, but stayed frozen still. "Who speaks to me?"

"Don't act. You know who I am." Leona stood over him, wearing bright clothing. To anybody who regularly saw her, it was in great contrast to her usual fitting of radiant body armor.

He looked into her eyes and relished the beautiful woman his childhood love had become. His throat had become dry. He cleared it before speaking.

"A pleasure to see you're alive and well. Have you come to admire the Moon tonight? It's as beautiful as ever." All emotion was stripped from his words.

She walked closer, and he shifted himself over so she could sit. They laid their backs against the tree's trunk and looked at the Moon. It was silent for a few minutes.

"You have no idea how long I worried after the night you just disappeared." She said shakily. "I never thought I'd see you again…"

"Mm…" he replied.

Moments passed in graceful quiet as the only sound audible was the wind bustling the distant trees' leaves. She turned to look at him.

"Why did you join the League?" she asked.

Damien snapped from his trance and said, "Need I say it?"

She was silent.

"I cannot live while the Solari exists. The Moon shines on me with its compassion and its power, and I intend to fulfill my ambitions with it. The Solari will experience vindication when they never see the dawn again."

Leona looked up to him with her glass-like eyes of which were wet from tears.

"Do you… still love me?" she asked pitifully.

He hesitated.

"I don't know." He said. "Love is not something I think I can feel anymore."

"I suppose nothing can ever stop you? From… your goal?"

Damien looked into her eyes. "No. Do you believe you can?"

"No… My love for you has always kept me from trying to find you and bring you back home."

"Does it not phase you? That somebody is here to destroy what you hold closest to you? What guides your inspiration to perform?" He pondered.

"I loved you, Damien, and I continue to. I could never step in front of your blade, as evil as its intentions could be."

"_Evil_? I endorse no evil. I bring justice. And that is all."

"You're an assassin. You've murdered plenty of people for money."

"I used the skills given to me to get by. After all, I had no home or family for support. I didn't ask you to judge my moral code, and it's the last thing I would've wanted from somebody who took everything away from me."

"You know I didn't—"

"Yes. But you understand, do you not? I didn't care about anybody else. I lived only to succeed in my passions. And I still do."

She didn't reply.

They sat in silence for what seemed to be an hour. Her sobs stopped and her face probably dried up. She was probably sleeping against the tree, he thought. No insects, birds, or forest creatures made noise to break the gentle night. The only sound was his own breathing and the wind blowing through the trees.

"Leona…? Have you ever admired the Moon?" The question was eating at him since they met many years ago.

"Just once." She answered. In truth, she had multiple times. Her devotion to the Sun had caused her ceaseless guilt when she would look in the night sky occasionally. She did it more often after Damien had left.

A few more minutes of quiet before Leona stood and said, "Well, it's late. I'd better get some sleep. You should, too. You've got practice to enjoy." She half-laughed at the word 'enjoy.'

Damien grunted his approval and stood up. Leona stood in front of him for a moment and looked around uneasily. Without a notice, she pushed Damien's back to the tree and slowly forced her lips onto his. She pulled her face away and looked at him. His eyelids lifted in surprise. Before he could say or do anything, she was walking back toward the Institute.


	3. Chapter 2 - A Whisper on the Fields

**Chapter 2 – A Whisper on the Fields of Justice**

Leona's heart was racing and her head pounding as she hastened down the field and into the building. What had she just done? She had lost control of herself and opened her heart to a man who hardly resembled the boy she fell in love with nearly a decade ago. Did she really still have feelings for somebody after so much time? Even to somebody who has only survived to dismantle her beliefs? It was too much to think about in a short amount of time. She made her way to the bathroom in her apartment and bathed her face with freezing water before falling into her bed. 'Some time to think,' she told herself, 'that's all I need.'

Damien eyed the back of Leona from across the Cantina in the booth that had become his own 'spot.' He had absentmindedly spent another hour under the tree before walking back to his apartment sleepily. It wasn't until the next morning in his booth that he had ran last night's events through his head. He had despised the Solari to every extent of his passion, yet he could not bring it upon himself to be more than indifferent to his childhood love, Leona, who was the exact symbol of everything he hated. She was the Radiant Dawn, selected by the Solari to represent them in the League of Legends. Did he despise her, like the rest of them?

But she is different, he told himself. She doesn't view him like they do, and she had told him (whether or not it was the truth, he wasn't sure) that she didn't condone what her people did to him. Did that change anything? He had been cruel to her the night he heard she was chosen, but why? Was it his hate of the Solari that drove his actions, or did he genuinely hold a discomfort of her for betraying him? What was stopping him from taking the wicked, sickle-shaped knife from his waist and driving it into her back? … Love? Did he still love her? Damien had answered her truthfully; he didn't know whether or not he was even capable of any emotion outside of hate and displeasure.

The trance that had captivated him for sluggish minutes broke when two flashes of light had collided somewhere nearby. He twitched his neck over, peeling his eyes from Leona, to the scene of what seemed to be two ninjas engaging in combat so fast he could hardly follow. One wore black with an odd, mechanical mask that seemed to radiate black puffs of smoke. The other was a tall and agile man in blue with two short blades crossing each other in sheaths hanging on his upper back. Their martial arts styles were quick, quiet, and of a form Damien had never witnessed.

He recognized the ninja in blue from a match he was recently watching that morning. His name was Shen. The quick movements of their forearms and shins twitched against each other so fast they appeared to leave phantom images behind them. Most, if not all, of the champions in the Cantina had stopped their conversations and feasting to watch this interesting spectacle. The mysterious character in black threw an unexpected uppercut with a sick twist. Out of the brace behind the top of his fist and settled on his forearm slid thin twin-blades that almost sliced into the tissue of Shen's face with its only protection being a silk-like mask. The surprise caused him to lose his balance and stumble backward. His hands gripped the leather hilts of his sheathed swords as he poised himself for an attack.

They stared at each other, perfectly still, for a single moment. Without warning, something black and red sliced through the air with a screech of sound towards Shen's left side. He just barely twitched his arm to dodge it, but something caused him to recoil slightly. There was a slit in the clothing under his right shoulder that began to ooze red. _What just happened? _Damien thought, mildly surprised. Shen craned his neck to look behind him. Damien followed suit and was shocked to see a figure made of the darkest smoke in the exact image of the unknown ninja. Each movement mirrored that of its counterpart.

Silently and swiftly, Shen pulled what appeared to be a phantom image of a sword from his back. He held the sword from his right sheath in his hand, but there still seemed to be a sword in the case. It flew soundlessly through the air towards the man in black, who, in the blink of an eye, dissipated into smoke. The blade bulleted right through him to its destination of the stone wall. The clone behind Shen grew solid in stature and prepared to dash towards his vulnerable back.

His left arm clutched under Shen's armpit and guarded his torso, while his right forearm was held under his chin. A swift _schlink!_ sound rang through the Cantina as the mysterious man's second twin-blade slid out of his decorative forearm sheath and moved seductively close to Shen's neck. The black ninja's forearm wavered and danced around as he seemed to relish the moment.

"_You'll die like your father!"_ he hissed with a voice like cold steel.

There was a mysterious crash from a Cantina chair hitting the floor as a blur of green dashed through the air, thick with anticipation. The figure turned to smoke as the man and his clone swapped positions once more causing Shen and a new ninja, this one a woman in green, to collide to the floor. She calmly laid Shen down and stood with her odd kama weapons in hand.

"_Balance is weakness. Shadow is power." _He chanted in his snake-like voice.

Instantly, a shadow of him gathered its form directly in front of Shen and solidified to the mysterious ninja. He bent low and pulled the defeated man's head up to face him.

"_Embrace the way of the Shadow. Maybe then when I decide to kill you I can fight a worthy adversary!"_ he taunted.

The lady in green had attempted to throw her kama at the figure, but he dissipated into the air and appeared at his origin. He gave one last glance at the fallen ninja in blue and the adamant ninja in green before silently leaving the Cantina.

"Intense…" Damien whispered under his breath as the rest of the Cantina continued their relations.

He listened intently to the two ninjas' conversation.

"How did he catch you off your guard, Shen?" the woman asked.

"If he had wanted to end my life, he would have put forth effort."

"You mean- You just let him attack you?" she looked surprised.

"I trust my balance, Akali." He finished.

Damien watched the two stand from the scene and walk to a table where they sat in silence with their heads low.

* * *

It is night outside. He takes his first step out of the trees on Mount Targon and looks ahead to the village not far in front of him. The spot is familiar and gives him an eerie nostalgia. But it's not the village he's here to see. He turns on his heel and walks back into the forest. He takes a familiar path and stops in the outskirts of the trees in front of a cottage dissolved from fire. The squalid roofing caved in and smoldering rock riddled the ground around it. Parts of the walls crashed into the ground as though dismantled from hand. His hand wraps around the decaying handle of the small, termite-eaten door. As soon as he takes a step inside-

Damien bolted from his bed with freezing sweat staining his forehead and his heartbeat reaching unnatural levels. The darkness in his room formed shapes that weren't there and for the slightest moment it held the illusion that he was laying in the bed of his home on Mount Targon. His eyes adapted to the black and he realized he was back in his apartment in the Institute of War. It was nearing the end of the week; his practice sessions basically finished and soon he would begin his career in the League of Legends. Warmth from the back of his sweaty hand kissed his forehead as he stepped out of the room and wrapped his silver cloak around his chilly body.

_In ten minutes I'll forget I ever had this dream,_ he thought as he made his way out into the courtyard.

It was a little after four in the morning when Damien stepped out onto the sparkling grass soaked in dew. The breeze of the early day slithered past his bare feet wet from the water. Darkness still befell the grounds, and the Moon still held the sky's throne. The usual black was melted into a dark and mystic blue and the bright stars twinkled in the oceanic heavens. He laid on his back and watched as the last hours of the night dissolved and the Moon slowly faded into the light of the Sun.

A rumbling in his gut reverberated through the rest of him and caused him to stand, stretch, and make his way inside. He would eat, perhaps study another match, get some hours of practice in, and see if he had been drafted into a team yet. The Sun had risen and shown its evil light on his back as he stepped into the building.

He hadn't felt like watching another match when he sat in his booth. Instead, he had noticed Leona for the first time in days. They hadn't had any more moonlit meetings since the night she opened her heart to him. Leona had scared herself white when she had lost control of herself and kissed Damien under the tree and had been wearing herself down thinking about this whole situation. Damien had pushed it out of his mind and recollected his priorities. He had agreed with his rational thoughts that his intentions in the League should come first and foremost, but some dark part of him yearned to communicate with Leona, romantically or not, it didn't seem to matter.

Damien tapped his fingertips on the table top and finished the tonic he had been drinking. He had lost his appetite, and planned to attend practice early. The collective chatter of the early-birds in the Cantina faded as he travelled through the hall toward the Summoning complex in the Champion's Quarters. There were no Summoners or hooded individuals standing against the smooth walls or vacating corridors.

* * *

"Is there something you wish to ask me, Damien?" an old man whose face was obscured by the rich cloth hanging over his head had asked Damien after he had finished his practice alone.

"Have I been drafted?" he said simply.

"Oh yes… Not long after you left here yesterday evening a team was very interested in your expertise."

"Great," he said enthusiastically, "when do I meet them?"

"No doubt most of them are awake and enjoying activities in the mess hall, but they're probably waiting on you so they can begin practicing. Your first match is next weekend."

"Who are my…?"

"I believe they'll let you know when you see them." The old man said in his wise tone.

Damien gave him an apprehensive look and grunted before leaving the small chamber. Whilst walking through the hall, he tried to understand what the man had meant, and thought about how he would find his team without knowing their identities. He was almost out of the complex and on his way to the Cantina before something stopped him.

"Psst. New Blood, over here."

Leaning in a dimly lit doorway to a cozy chamber was one of the most attractive women Damien had ever seen. She had a slender body, beautiful red hair that reminded him of somebody else, and a scar across one of her eyes that only seemed to make her prettier, he thought. The young woman stood straight and walked toward him.

She held out her hand to him and asked, "You're the new champion Damien, right?"

Noticing the amount of sinister-looking knives latched to her revealing clothing, he took it cautiously and replied, "Yes. And you are?"

"Katarina, the Sinister Blade. But you can skip the title. You look like somebody who's killed a lot of people. I won't ask why, and you don't have to tell me anything. You've got the look on you." She said and slid her hand back to her side.

Damien stared coldly into her eyes. She smiled and turned toward the chamber.

"This way, New Blood," she said, "your new team is waiting to meet you."

Her hips swayed sexily with each step. She was an assassin, all right. Being attractive was a deadly asset to a blade for hire. Seduction was usually the easiest way to complete contracts and collect as quickly as possible. He took a note to himself to watch out for her.

In the chamber were a few comfortable chairs and stone benches occupied by his new partners. Alone in the corner behind a table sat the familiar unnaturally sized rat testing concoctions from his sewer-colored overcoat. His small but large nose twitched and shook over the little glass vials before he would tip a few drops in a cup and repeat the process for a different colored fluid. The rings he wore glimmered from the blue flames atop torches that dimly lit the room.

The last two teammates of his were engaged in conversation on the stone bench. One was a sleazy looking man with a long moustache. He had axe-blades on rings hanging from the back of his regal clothing. His conversational partner was a large beast covered in tattered fur and a hunter's cuirass. One of his eyes was covered with a patch and around his neck strung a necklace consisting of teeth ranging from small to large, curved to straight, dull to sharp. He looked menacing and deadly.

"That's Twitch, the Plague Rat." Katarina motioned her neck toward the lonesome rodent. It looked up with a face that resembled annoyance, but in its eyes Damien could see a little twinge of sadness. Was there more to this creature than the eyes saw?

"The two chatty ones over there are Draven, the Glorious Executioner, and Rengar, the Pridestalker." After she finished this, Draven must have said something funny in a story of his because the beast had started roaring with hearty laughter.

"Draven can just about be the most annoying person you've ever met, but he does his job well. And dramatically, at that. Rengar is a hunter who keeps trophies of every beast he's slain. And Twitch is very good at sneaking up on people. He coats his bolts in special venom so he doesn't have to stay in a fight very long. And me? I happen to be very skilled with knives." She said the word with a deep reverence as she took one from her waist and dragged her tongue seductively across the blade's edge.

Everyone's attention came to Damien. Katarina turned to them and announced, "Everyone, this is Damien, the Moon's Whisper," she then returned to face Damien and said, "we closely monitored your abilities, and we'd love to have you fight alongside us for the month."

Draven walked over to him and shook his hand energetically.

"Consider yourself honored to be shaking the hand of _Draven_," he venomously grinned.

The lion-beast took his hand next.

"A pleasure," he smiled and revealed teeth like razor blades.

Twitch didn't move from his seat. He only stared tentatively at Damien and returned to his experimenting.

Across the chamber, almost out of earshot, sat another team. No doubt they would be Damien's opponents in just a few minutes. A skinny and strange-looking man with white greasepaint all over his face and the eeriest smile complimented with his darkly toned court jester clothing stared at Damien from his solitary seat. He appeared to be giggling, but Damien couldn't hear it. There was a living scarecrow sitting still on a stone bench petting a crow as black as the night perched on his shoulder. A large and broad-shouldered man clad in blue, white, and gold armor was discussing tactics with a handsome young man who was tinkering with a big, golden, machine-like hammer. His last opponent was a monk whose eyes were covered with a cloth barrier. He appeared to be meditating with his legs crossed on the cold, stone floor of the chamber.

Damien was admiring the crescent blade of his knife held above his lap when Katarina's shadow fell on him. He looked up. The rest of his team was following their opponents out of the chamber.

"Well, let us begin. Show us what you can do, New Blood."

* * *

The ten champions sat in another chamber, each team separated. Summoners, all mysterious figures hidden under robes of different sizes, stood aligned and started chanting in fast whispers. One man, who was strikingly similar to Damien's instructor in that he was short and had a thick beard, stood in front of the casting Summoners and the idle champions. He inspected each technique the Summoners performed, checking for anything that could possibly go awry.

"This uh… won't be broadcasted live, will it?" Damien asked nervously to Katarina who sat coolly beside him.

"Oh it will. Most practice matches are, unless requested by the participants. Nervous, New Blood?"

He only looked down at his knees.

"Shaco, the Demon Jester, will you please step forward?" the instructor called.

The skinny man with white greasepaint slandered across his face and a devious grin bounced from his seat and danced toward the first Summoner in line. His Summoner held his hand out, palm up, and Shaco clapped his on it and he faded to a blue wisp.

"Jayce, the Defender of Tomorrow," he called next.

The handsome young man, whose golden hammer he held like a cannon, walked to his Summoner and placed a hand to his.

The instructor continued with Garen, the Might of Demacia; Lee Sin, the Blind Monk; and Fiddlesticks, the Harbinger of Doom. Next was Damien's team. One by one his fellow champions were called and Summoned. Last was Damien, and when he placed his sweaty hand on the Summoner's he felt the familiar feeling of having the wind knocked out of him as he appeared in the fountain in Summoner's Rift.

Twitch loaded his rusty crossbow with a row of bolts, Draven pulled two ringed axes to his hands, Rengar unsheathed his carving knife, and Katarina pulled two projectile blades to her gripped palms. Damien began walking out of the fountain when her hand stopped him.

"You're not very familiar with the mapping. Take a lane. Rengar will do the roaming, New Blood."

He grunted and turned towards his right.

As he exited the plot, a young lady's voice rang through Summoner's Rift (_Minions have spawned!_) and a small group of fearsome creatures clad with swords, shields, and staves followed him down the dirt path surrounded with trees. No sound was made except the footsteps of he and his minions and the clinking of their weapons of war.

_"You finding your lane alright, New Blood?"_ he heard the familiar, raspy voice of Rengar in his head.

_"Yes, I'm fine."_ He thought.

_"This should be easy. The enemy doesn't know what you can do."_

He agreed with that, and he also thought about how much he detested being called 'New Blood.' Focus pushed his petty thoughts away as he reached the battleground of his lane where his minions would collide in battle with the others. As the husks of warriors started to gruesomely tear each other apart, Damien sat under the shade of a nearby tree. He watched the other end of the road until the prominent figure holding a gigantic hammer made his way to the lane. Damien slithered from the tree and kept himself to the shadows as he slinked toward his opponent in the sides of the lane.

_"Nobody's here."_ Jayce relayed to his teammates. _"I think I'm against the new guy."_

_"Let's hope he scares easy…"_ an cold, high-pitched cackle echoed through Jayce's head.

Damien watched for tens of seconds before he made his move onto Jayce. He bolted from the trees and held his crescent knife in a reverse grip, cutting edge outward. The young man readied his hammer and swung upward like a nine-iron. The blunt mass smashed against Damien's body as he was sent into the air. He thought he heard bones snap. As he was rag-dolling through the air, Jayce held his hammer like a gun as the blunt head began to disassemble and reassemble. Bolts of electricity bulleted out of the chamber and stabbed into Damien like a million arrows. His landing destination moved further a few meters from the power of the shots, and the impact force on his arrival was excruciating.

"Motherfucker…" he clutched the left side of his ribs with an arm as he limped from the ground.

"That was easy!" Jayce taunted across the wave of minion corpses, and the renewed army fighting again.

Damien breathed deeply and gained his posture back. He dashed towards Jayce, who held his cannon like a hammer over his head. The bludgeon came down like a warhammer but missed Damien and crashed to the earth. Damien's hand swiped upward and gashed the neck of the young man. A streak of red painted the air and slapped onto the blades of lush grass. His eyes widened as the end of a boot slammed into his face and forced him to the ground on his back. Damien stood on one knee and looked down into the young man's face.

"That was easy." He whispered to him before sticking the end of his knife into his chest.

_First blood!_ The young woman announced across the plane.

_"Well done, New Blood."_ He heard Katarina's voice.

He walked from the lifeless body and figured his injury wasn't too bad to recall and joined the minions' skirmish so he could attempt to take the tower further down the road. He sat to rest for a minute behind his wave of creatures. Something caught his eye in the trees ahead. Damien saw what appeared to be a person walking in the shade, and disappeared in a split second. He pulled his knife and stood.

"Hee hee hee…" an enthusiastic giggle sounded from behind him before something was forcefully gored into the top of his spine vertebrae.

"GAHHH!" he yelled aloud and elbowed his sly opponent's jaw. He turned in a flash and gripped the man's neck and tossed him to the ground below him.

Damien slammed his booted foot onto the sternum of the skinny, greasepainted man. The thing was giggling endlessly with his insane grin. Its eyes glowed yellow.

"Hee hee hee…" it laughed again.

"What the hell is so funny?" Damien slid through gritted teeth.

He had no time to think as the man-thing screamed and a million knives exploded from his body and fanned into all directions. Upwards of thirty blades punctured all over the front of his body and he collapsed. The pain was indescribable.

Shaco stood over him and said, "Now you see me…" and he stomped his fairy-toed foot on Damien's face and ended his life. "… Now you don't!" he cackled and disappeared again.

For a second in Damien's life, he felt he was lifted from pain and sorrow. He lay afloat on a soft cloud on the serene waters of an infinite ocean. A cool breeze wafted the raft through the sea. He felt vulnerable but happy. All of his worries, his heartaches and his passions were stripped from him. Was this what it felt like to be dead?

Damien's eyes shot open and he was in the fountain. No pain, no injuries. There were no punctures in his skin, no scars from the knives, and no broken bones from the hammer's blow.

_"Get ready, Draven. I'm coming from his back,"_ Rengar's voice smoothly echoed in Draven's head.

_"Don't worry, I got this!"_ he purred.

Draven took two of his axes and swung them together. He launched them to his opponent, Garen. The axes hit his torso's left side and ripped out pieces of his flesh. Garen swayed but took the blow. From the shadows, the silhouette of a gigantic beast launched itself onto the warrior's back and forced him to the ground. The giant carving knife he held cleanly beheaded the defenseless warrior.

"Smooooth," he cooed and slapped his hand onto Rengar's.

Together they dismantled the enemy tower with their weapons and platoon of minions.

Katarina was throwing knife after knife in Lee Sin's direction, who, despite being blind, carelessly dodged them with ease. The monk gathered his posture and shot his palm outward. A ripple in the air hit the small creature by Katarina's foot and he launched himself toward it. In the blink of an eye he was crouched under her and the bottom of his padded foot met her jaw. She was pulled upward by the force of the kick and Lee Sin dashed behind her. With a cry, he roundhouse kicked her back and she sprawled further into the lane. She was oblivious to the scarecrow standing behind the trees, whirling its farmer's scythe with its twig-like arms over its shoulders. When the Sinister Blade stood in her injured posture, what appeared to be a black cloud floated through the sky, and then turned toward her. A murder consisting of hundreds of crows cawed and screamed as they stormed over the lane, blocking out the Sun.

She gained her focus and took a deep, long-lasting breath. With the screech of steel on steel, a plethora of knives fanned in all directions away from the spinning blur that was the Sinister Blade. Black birds fell from the sky, with blades stuck through their wings, one by one. A collage consisting of the myriad of crows and pools of ichor covered the ground. The crows dead and the scarecrow left in awe, she took her chance and skillfully threw more knives to eliminate her opponents. Fiddlesticks had no agility and fell instantaneously. Lee Sin fought harder, but eventually collapsed with many razors sticking out from his corpse. Katarina let out a low sigh and fell to the ground to recall exhaustedly.

Damien concentrated sternly as he sat in the roof of a tree. The sky was slowly darkening, the Sun slowly setting, and the pale cascade of the Full Moon slowly fading in. When the stars and the Moon dominated the heavens, he stood behind the branches and leaves. Jayce was looking around uneasily.

"My hatred will wax… and my mercy will wane…" he whispered in the dark of night before dashing from the tree.

Jayce looked past the gladiatorial warriors slashing at each other to see a peculiar specter. Damien's cloak resonated the Moon's light and illuminated the area around him. A cloud of lunar energy billowed around him. The man took his dagger from its clasp on his belt. Its ghostly glow brightened as the blade enlarged by a few inches. And then he was gone. A blink, and Damien had slashed his shoulder. The knife glowed brighter and absorbed the nutrients in the blood. Another blink, and Damien had cut into his ribs. Yet another blink, and another, and another. Afterwards, Jayce was on his knees with gashes like trenches decorating the whole of his body.

Damien's hand grasped his neck and pulled him up. "Do not deny the Moon," he hushed and sliced his neck.

The cloud surrounding him billowed and whipped as blades clashed against it. Shaco was back and mercilessly trying to hit him, but the lunar smoke disallowed it. He looked into the monster's eyes. Its grin never faltered, and it continued to giggle softly and cut away at the shield.

_"Move!"_ a weak voice commanded Damien.

He sidestepped and bolts ruptured through Shaco's torso. As the arrow heads bulleted through the skin and royal clothing, lime-green liquid slid from the bolts' shafts like saliva. The open wounds were coated in venom that slowly ate away the flesh.

"Agggh!" he sarcastically screamed (although he was truly in pain). "Ohhhh!" another bolt pierced him. "Aggh!" he finally yelled and fell to the ground.

Twitch stepped from the shadows under the Moon's light and kicked over the clown's corpse. The yellow gleam in its eyes died out, as did the glow in Damien's. His smoke dissipated and his dagger shrunk to its origin. The rat eyed the cadaver curiously, took out a vial, and salvaged what he could of the venom.

"Very valuable stuff…" the rat muttered to himself. He placed the vial inside his coat and gave Damien an approving smile.

"Shall we take the tower?" he asked and his whiskers twitched.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Well here it is, Chapter 2 in it entirety! I apologize for its length. The number of words make up more than half of the whole story so far.

But anyway, I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Chapter 3 is on its way as well.

Once again, a big thanks to those who read my story! And PLEASE leave a review with your criticisms! If there is any way I can improve my writing, I wish to know.

Lastly, I only read the chapter twice, so if there are any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes, I sincerely apologize, I only wanted to get this chapter to you guys sooner.

I hope you've enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter 3 - The True Beauty of the Moon

**Chapter 3 – The True Beauty of the Moon**

It was a landslide victory for Damien's team in his first practice match. To each enemy, it seemed like there was always a hidden champion during a one-on-one scuffle that would sneak up and finish him, allowing another free tower for the other team. The strategic commands flew back and forth between each champion's mind and eventually they captured the enemy nexus.

"Just as I predicted," Rengar boasted and clapped Damien on the back with a giant, clawed paw as the team exited the chamber to celebrate in the Cantina, "they had no defense against New Blood's unknown ability."

Draven drew attention away from him and began bragging about his 'glorious' feats against the Might of Demacia, Katarina gave Damien a coy smile and a nod, and Twitch had done nothing. He only waddled behind the party, admiring the apparatus he had filled with the venom he extracted from his victims' bodies. Damien remained silent, masking the elation he felt from his first victory. Although it wasn't a real victory, he thought. His first real match would be at the end of the week.

The collective sat together in a table in a corner nearby the entrance. Damien was sitting against the wall on a side alone. Draven regally placed himself across from him and next to Rengar (who didn't sit, he was fetching drinks). Katarina found a spot next to Damien. Twitch was a few seats away in isolation.

"You killed well, I'll give you that, New Blood," Draven had said in his sleazy yet smooth voice, "but I think I still give everybody a run for their gold, eh?" He stroked one end of his hanging moustache with his index finger and thumb.

"What about your brother, huh? I hear he's a much better fighter than you." Katarina teased.

Draven's joyous face went stern and angry. For a second Damien thought he'd slap her, but he just sat still and kept his mouth closed.

"Why did a clown like you join the League, anyway?" she asked Draven.

His face lit up at the notion that somebody was paying attention to him and replied, "As the Glorious Executioner of prisoners at Noxus, my fame was great. But not enough glory in killing spies and defectors and murderers. To be the greatest champion in the League of Legends is the highest honor. The more Draven we have here, the better!"

"What about you, wench?" Draven grinned at Katarina.

She scoffed and flared a twisted smile before saying, "My family, Du Couteau; and Noxus, of course." Katarina looked up at Rengar who smacked large mugs onto the table top and asked, "And you, Rengar?"

"Me what?"

"Why did you join the League?"

"Ahhhh… I am an experienced hunter. I relish the feeling when I take down a challenging enemy, and I take part in collecting trophies of my greatest kills. As my trophies stacked, my challenges faded and I was left with boring prey. The League holds for me the most dangerous and most satisfying game I could ever hunt." His speech garnered attention from a few nearby champions as well as his team's.

"What about you, Twitch? I don't think anybody's ever heard why you're here."

The rat jumped at the mention of his name and nearly smashed his flask onto the floor.

He wrinkled his nose and flicked his whiskers. "Money." He said simply and went back to examining his various solutions.

Damien looked at him questioningly. Katarina leaned forward in Damien's direction.

"We're all dying to know why you joined, New Blood." She said sarcastically, but like the others there was a little bit of interest in her eyes.

Damien stared into space and thought. Retribution in the Moon's name, is what his answer was. The cleansing of this world from the Solari. Stopping their Sun from ever rising again.

"Killing is fun," he lied casually and sat back.

His team bought it and began flushing their mugs down their throats. For a few minutes he idly sipped the alcohol from his cup and eyed the myriad of strange champions in the Cantina. He left his cup and moved to sit by the lonesome and curious rat.

"You lied." He simply said to him.

Twitch gave him a cautious look and stowed the flasks he'd taken from his pockets back into his coat. "I did."

It was silent for a moment. Twitch took a swig from his mug that was too big for him.

"They wouldn't understand me, anyway. My purposes are selfish, yes, but not in their ways. The man who looks like a goat," Damien chuckled as Twitch said this, "wants a bigger name. The hunter wants proof of his instincts, and the assassin wants political power for her family. Me? I just want a family."

Damien waited for him to further explain.

"I was an ordinary sewer rat, if you could believe it. But I'm not asking you to. To tell the truth, I don't even know why I'm talking to somebody whose twice my height and wouldn't give a damn about a sentient rodent." He paused, and then continued. "I fight in the League of Legends so that I can garner enough support to recreate what shaped me. It was like I woke up one day laying in a pile of waste under Zaun, scared to death. Where the hell was I? What was going on? I could _think_. My friendly rodents couldn't talk, couldn't understand me. I was alone in the world, and I still am. Do you know what that's like?" He stared up at the man who seemed so tall to him, making him feel more vulnerable.

Yes, he did. To be the only man in the world who had loved the Moon, and to lose all that he held dearly for it. A slow, dull ache crept into him. He tensed the muscles in his chest. His mouth went dry. Was he… going to start crying?

He threw a last look at the little rat and said with a faltering voice, "No. I guess I don't."

The rat sighed his lispy sigh, took a final drink from the mug that was bigger than his hands, and left the Cantina.

Damien had spent the remaining hour of the afternoon and the first hour of the night in the Cantina. The rodent's story, and the little but crucial details that were so similar to his. He had only one serving of the alcohol Rengar had fetched, a drastic difference to the near dozen the rest of his team had drank, and it was slowly lifting his head but not yet impairing his conscience. Damien's eyes stared long and coldly in the space of the Cantina before he ditched his seat and walked out into the hall.

His eyelids were growing heavy as he groggily stepped through the apartment complex's hallway to find his room. Damien's footsteps were the constant pressures that kept him awake each time his eyes shut closed in protest to his action. If it weren't for the other person in the hallway, he might have just fainted onto the stone foundation.

"Damien…"

His eyes shot open and caught the image of Leona before she clasped her arms around him and buried her face into his cloak. Confusion had sobered him up and yanked him from shutting down. He placed his arms around her and patted her back gently. His chin rested on her shoulder and the scent of her hair kindly played with his nostrils. A benign feeling washed through him, a feeling he had thought was all but vanished from his spectrum of emotion.

She lifted her face from him and looked with a serene brightness into his eyes. Her lips rose up to meet his, and when they struck each other Damien hadn't protested. The world around him had stopped for a brief moment for him to think. Why wasn't he stopping this? He had asked himself. Perhaps he still loved her, or still has his lust for her from his earlier life. Whatever it was, he didn't care. He had needed this feeling for a long time, and she had, too, he supposed. The pause was lifted and their lips had continued to coalesce softly and romantically, parting regretfully and meeting lustfully. Damien slid his hand behind her head and into her beautiful red hair when their mouths parted for the final time. Leona looked at him again with a wishful smile.

She drew close and whispered into his ear seductively, "If you'd like, we can make love like we used to, Damien…"

He opened his apartment door and they began their illustrious kissing once more before finding his bed.

* * *

The month of January was decorated in many victories for Damien and his team. It was near the end of each month that the best teams competed in tournaments before being re-drafted into newer teams. At the end of each year, there were grand tournaments where two teams fought a best of five with the top ten champions; those who have won the most or garnered the most interest of beneficiaries.

After their final preliminary match leaving their team undefeated, Draven had said "This tournament is easily ours." Damien's team had agreed with filled mugs in hand.

Now Damien sat under the lonesome tree below the first Full Moon he had witnessed here at the Institute of War. It was late, around midnight, where he willfully scanned through the recesses of his mind. His challenging victories, his ambitions, and Leona. They had made love, but he did not feel he truly loved her as she loved him. A twinge of guilt addled him. It hurt a part of him to knowingly lust for her when he didn't feel the pleasures of being in love. He had taken to avoiding her again, guilty with his inability to love her back. Damien heaved a sigh against the ancient tree and looked up. The complete, silver globe of beauty brought forth the entire plethora of twinkling stars in the night sky and glorifying the celestial ocean of the heavens.

Soft footsteps patted the already-dewing grass meters behind Damien, causing him to tense up and keep his back to the bark of the spire. There was a calm thud as this lonely (yet not alone) figure sat down on the other end of the tree. Damien's chest was thumped by his heart every second in anxiety. Who could be here at this hour of the night, where his love rules the night sky? But she began to sing slowly and solemnly.

"_Ask not the sun why she sets,_

_ Why she shrouds her light away,_

_ Or why she hides her glowing gaze,_

_ When night turns crimson gold to gray…"_

It was absolutely beautiful, Damien had thought. Her voice was that of the Moon itself. She continued after a brief pause.

_"For silent falls the guilty Sun,_

_ As day to dark does turn,_

_ One simple truth she dare not speak:_

_ Her light can only blind and burn…"_

His heart beat even faster, and his hand clutched the clothing of his chest. Silence of nature lent the acoustics of the night into her divine voice. Her voice was now not only solemn, but was mixed with boiling contempt.

_"No mercy for the guilty,_

_ Bring down their lying Sun,_

_ Blood so silver black by night,_

_ Upon their faces pale white…"_

Another pause. Suspense crept into him and chilled his blood. The cold January air felt warm to the ice in his veins. The contempt now mingled with seriousness as though this beautiful divinity had began to vow.

_"Cruel Moon bring the end,_

_ The dawn will never rise again…"_

She finished slowly and chillingly. Goosebumps arose from his skin as he sat frozen still under the petrified tower of bark and leaf. The silence was maddening. His mind flushed over with murderous curiosity that began to pull and jab at the back of his brain and driving him insane. Contempt for the Solari boiled back into him, melting the frost in his blood and sobering his conscience. This woman, this fallen angel… she, too, had despised the acolytes of the Sun. He wanted to approach her, to embrace her and experience her beauty. But he was nervous. His childish nerves got the best of him as he allowed the chill in his body to freeze him under the tree once more.

The grass blades behind the tree crunched once more as the woman stood up. She walked past the tree and had not known of Damien's presence. Cold relief froze him even stiller. He stared at all he could see of her. The back of her white hair glistened so beautifully in the caressing moonlight raining down on the earth. Her grey clothing hugged her gorgeous figure as she slowly traveled toward the Institute. He had never seen a sight so divine. She disappeared in the far darkness and left Damien's heart fluttering. A new feeling melted his insides; no, not a new feeling. An old feeling… of being young and in love.

Damien hitched in an extensive breath. She had apparently taken it away. He felt he had just woken up from death, and this resplendent goddess from the Moon brought the living breath into his abandoned lungs. The shining of many stars and the vast planes of the Moon pulled his eyes from the Institute's walls. His eyes felt heavy and heat spread through his body. He closed his eyelids and dropped his head to his chest. The last image in his head before laying his conscience to rest was the woman, the true beauty of the Moon.

* * *

Damien was in darkness. There were voices, muffled as if his head was submerged in water. They grew louder, and eventually something had rammed against his left cheek. Damien opened his eyes slowly, and dropped his head into his hands immediately as the noon's Sun blinded and stabbed his pupils.

"Wake the fuck up, New Blood, the match starts in fifteen minutes!" Katarina's voice was yelling into his half-asleep ear. She called out to the others "I've found 'im."

A million pins punctured his cheek where Katarina had slapped him awake. Then sudden realization dawned on him.

"Fifteen minutes!? Oh hell, I slept in..!" He bolted from his seat and laid a hand on his aching neck.

"You're damn right you did. You scared the shit out of us when you weren't in your apartment. You better hurry up before you make us all late." She yanked him forward and they began to sprint toward the building.

Damien was panting and breathing knives into his throat when they reached the chamber vacated by ten Summoners, all ready to summon, and his five opponents. He fell onto the stone bench to catch his breath. The familiar instructor that had seen him off before every match stood over him with a look of disappointment.

"I suspect because this is your first tournament, you do not know the rules?" He wisely questioned.

Damien sat up. "No."

The old man sighed and recited, "Tournament matches last for an hour. If the nexus has not been captured by then, the team with the most towers taken will be labeled victorious. So for this reason, we implore for the champions to kill swiftly and not to take their time. However, we do not intend to impair your ability to put on a good show. Good luck to you and your team." He bowed and stood in front of the Summoners.

He pulled a page from his robe.

"Darius, the Hand of Noxus. If you will step forward, please."

The familiar, square-jawed and middle-aged man Damien had admired stood with a brutal expression on his face as he stared towards Damien's team. He placed his calloused hand into the outstretched palm of the Summoner.

Next was Nocturne, the Eternal Nightmare. The horrific specter glided over the stone floor and seemed to make the room colder. He gave a contemptuous look at the Summoner before being summoned. After him was Vladimir, the Crimson Reaper. His hands were gloved with silver and ornate gauntlets, whose fingers were sharp and steel. A sphere of deep and rich red fluid swirled in one of his surgeon's hands.

"Viktor, the Machine Herald." He recited.

A man with mechanically augmented limbs stepped forward. He held a scepter crowned with a core emitting electrostatic bolts caged in a beautiful casing. A robotic limb stretched from the top of his spine and idly stood like a bare bone from his body. Walking behind him was Singed, the Mad Chemist. His thin appendages were wrapped in mysterious bandages, and what was left of his hair was prickling in all directions. He held a large shield in one arm and a giant cask of an unknown liquid hoisted onto his back.

The robed man called Damien's team captain, Katarina, next. Before she stepped forward, she clapped a hand softly on Damien's shoulder. Her face was white and nervous.

"Let's give them hell, New Blood." She said shakily and smiled.

* * *

The stealing of his breath brought him onto the Fields of Justice once more to compete in a tournament match that will take him one step closer to his goal. Nerves quaked his stomach. Not only did his performance determine how soon he would have his vengeance, this match was going to be viewed by perhaps the entire champion-base, as well as many viewers in major cities all around Valoran. If he won, he would be in the finals for the month. The sudden feeling to wretch caused him to secrete cold sweat as he made his way into the trees. He would at least have a little bit of solitary time; he was roaming with Rengar this match. His ability to move extremely quickly and fall into the shadows easily were best suited for surprising the enemy and helping his team take towers all over the Rift. He jumped into a tree and disappeared.

_"Will you be okay against those two, Draven?"_ Draven had heard in his head from Katarina.

_"Oh yeah, just give me my chance to shine. I'll have First Blood! I'll wager you, Rengar!"_ he telepathically boasted.

A brief pause, _"What are we placing?"_ Draven could practically hear the wide grin on the beast's face.

_"If they die valiantly, I get one of your trophies. If they die running and with an axe in their backs, I get the whole damn necklace."_ He laughed outside of his head.

Another pause as the lion was contemplating. _"Alright. The hunt is on."_ He said.

Draven stepped past his turret and began spinning his axes as Darius and Singed showed their face.

"Bow to your Glorious Executioner, folks. Bow and behold!" he taunted across the lane.

Singed looked over to his partner with a raised eyebrow. Darius shot an expression of lava back at him.

Across the plane Twitch was facing off versus the Crimson Reaper. Twitch's crossbow launched bolts coated in noxious venom in Vladimir's direction, only to have them be blocked by small walls of blood that separated from his small globe. When struck, the blood would splash to the ground and almost instantaneously gather back into the sphere. Twitch focused and fired a bolt to narrowly pass the constructed shield and stab into the red man's shoulder. He began to squirm as the acidic fluid ate at his flesh. Vladimir held out his free hand and squeezed as though he were crushing a small pebble. The nearest minion had exploded in a cloud of gore, organic mass, and thick, red smog. The vapor launched toward him and was inhaled through every orifice of his body. He breathed deeply as the bolt in his shoulder snapped and fell from his arm.

He had an other-worldly voice as he giggled maniacally, "Kneel before me, rat!"

Blades of rich blood rocketed out of his brick-colored globe toward Twitch. They stabbed into the ground where he had barely dodged from, liquefied, and slithered back to their owner. Twitch pulled a vial from his overcoat. He tossed it into the air and caught it, measuring its weight. He took a sip of it before dropping onto all fours and, with great agility, crawling through the grass and into the shadows of the trees.

Many meters away Katarina threw knife after sharp knife at her metallic adversary. She was having no success and taking severe hits. The last laser he shot from his third arm nearly hit and vaporized her leg. She dashed about the lane throwing constant daggers in Viktor's direction. The blades bounced off of his body.

"Steel has perfected my form," he stated in a foreign drawl. "Do not trifle with pointy objects."

He threw a small, mechanical net nearby her and raised his left arm. A web erupted from the net from under her and increased the gravitational pull two fold. Katarina's knees shook in protest to her will to move. A white-hot beam of energy blasted from her opponent's figure with a bass throb and burned into the ground as it traversed toward her. She had just barely fell out of his gravity field and rolled out of the way as the laser passed by her torso.

_"I'm getting my ass handed to me. A little help would be nice, Rengar."_ Her voice filtered through gritted teeth.

_"We're about to First Blood Draven's enemies. Get New Blood to help,"_ he replied.

She awaited an answer.

_"I'm on my way."_ Damien said quietly.

_"You ready for this perfection?"_ Draven inquired.

_"Always."_ Rengar laughed.

"Hey! Kiss my ass, you drunk bastard!" He yelled across the lane to Singed.

"That little…" Singed began running after him.

"No! You spineless imbecile!" Darius had tried to pull him back, seeing the obvious trap, but his partner was gone.

The hulking mass launched from a tree-top and pulled Singed to the grass, sliding and skidding as they went. An axe blade screamed toward the defeated champion and gored directly into his chest. Rengar stood up from Singed as Draven swaggered toward him. Darius was standing his ground meters away.

"D-Dammit..!" Singed coughed a palm-full of blood from his mouth.

"Allow Draven to show everybody who's got the _real_ Noxian Guillotine, eh?" Draven cocked a smile and stylishly swung an axe in a circle on his finger and smoothly beheaded Singed without any protest from his bone.

_First Blood!_ Draven held his hands over his head, and began bowing to an invisible, cheering crowd.

Rengar pushed him and nearly knocked him down.

"Let's go." He said, and camouflaged back into the brush and leaf.

Draven's face dropped the joking smile as he pulled his axe from Singed's corpse. He looked over to Darius who held a sneering smile. Draven gave him a cold expression and left the cadaver alone in the grass surrounded with its own blood.

_"I'm going to jump in from behind. Be ready."_ Damien communicated to Katarina.

She showed no sign of aggression towards Viktor, goading him to attack without fear of an ambush. A silver flash zoomed from behind a far tree and cleanly sawed off the Machine Herald's left arm. The dead weight of steel clunked to the earth as Katarina disappeared and popped into Viktor's face. Sparks flashed and zapped out of the metallic stub. The dreaded bass slam blared into Katarina's ears as the death laser melted the path and nicked her foot.

"GAAH!" she screamed and withdrew herself.

Another charge jutted from the skeletal-looking arm just before Damien had pushed her out of the way. Without Damien's attention, another gravity field was active under him. His legs were pulled down and he was forced to his knees.

"Pathetic nuisance. You can watch the extent of my glorious evolution." His cold voice split the air.

His clunking footfalls taunted Damien's ear drums. Viktor's scepter was thrown to the ground as he lifted the dazed, defenseless, and hurt Katarina by the neck. She writhed under his grip, trying to break free, but to no avail. The third arm was outstretched over Viktor's head and in front of Katarina's face. She screamed as the beam erupted from the mechanical palm and vaporized a gruesome path through her corpse.

Immediately as the gravity field shut down, he leapt from his place and swung his knife as fast as he could and as much as he could. He kicked Viktor to the ground and sliced off the thin, extra arm. With a jolt of killing pleasure, Damien smiled at his helpless victim and planted the blade into his head.

_"I apologize."_ Damien relayed to Katarina.

_"Don't. It's my fault he's walking all over my feet. Don't worry about me, New Blood."_

Twitch crawled from the brush and began blasting away at Vladimir. He left himself in the open, and his opponent had done exactly what he wanted. He squeezed his palm once more and a rupture in Twitch's side left a gash on him as the blood travelled to the Crimson Reaper. The effects of his poison were immediate. The man's face had gone even whiter than it already was, and he began to convulse.

"Be careful of the things you drink," the sly rat giggled. "I poisoned my blood, you fool."

Vladimir grinned as a trickle of blood dribbled to his chin.

"THEN TAKE IT BACK!" he screamed and an eruption of gore splashed over Twitch.

First Twitch's body began to shake, and then his eyes began to lose their vision. Not long afterwards his very blood began to boil inside of him. The heat was unbearable and he began to yelp in immense pain. Without warning, the left side of his little torso ruptured. The gore and pieces of tissue sprayed against the grass like morning dew. Twitch fell to the ground, barely alive. He'd bleed out in a few seconds. He had to think quickly. His paw reached back into his gore-soaked overcoat and withdrew the poison flask. Amidst the Reaper's cocky laughter of triumph, the vial soared into the air and crashed onto his head. Twitch had died from his loss of blood before he heard the glass break, and Vladimir had died before the flesh-eating venom had touched the earth.

Thirty minutes into the match Damien's team had captured two towers, and Darius's team had captured three. They were ahead in the kill count with Draven on the verge of winning a perfect game having not died yet, and Twitch's clever tactics using the various poisons he saves for the right occasions. Katarina continuously had trouble with Viktor, and has had a hard time staying alive. She lost her turret first. Draven lost his turret after he recalled while Damien and Rengar were trying their best to save Katarina from her inevitable death. Twitch lost his tower, but also took Vladimir's. Nocturne had hardly showed his face through the match, only when towers were to be taken.

Damien crouched in yet another tree-top, intent on summoning the Moon's power once more. Sunlight faded away, stars twinkled into view, and the Moon began to glow in the sky. His eyes emanated the Moon's light and the wisps of cloud began to gather around his form. He jumped from the tree and began running through the thick of bark towers and lush brushes. Something shivered down his spine and stopped him dead in his tracks.

"_I am at home in the dead of night…_" a freezing, yet familiar voice echoed past the leaves.

Silence. And then a trail of black wisps crawled from the darkness and slithered behind his silver cloud. Horrific visions of gruesome images and mental torture stabbed at his conscience. The hallucinations seemingly blinded him, causing him to walk into trees and stumble over roots. Cold sweat drenched the inside of his cloak's hood and matted his dark hair. Something slashed at his back, but was deflected from his shield.

_"I might need some help. Nocturne is somewhere nearby and I can't see a damn thing."_ He relayed to his teammates.

As if it were possible, the dark night had actually become blacker. The stars no longer twinkled, and Moon was a dim blur amidst the shadow that clouded the sky. Something happened to his mind. It was as though it were "silent." He heard no replies from his teammates.

"_Nobody will hear you scream as I rip your entrails out…_" the voice of putrid evil clouded his ears.

Genuine fear had crawled into Damien's skin now. He turned behind a tree and was greeted with the face of the Eternal Nightmare. Its eyes burned in their absent sockets. Damien drew his enlarged blade quickly and struck the smoky figure. His adversary dissipated when the knife sliced thin air.

"_You cannot kill what is only real in your nightmares…_"

Damien turned his back immediately to look around for his opponent. The darkness mingled with the black of night caused his vision not to exceed a few feet in his eyes' direction. His back slinked against a tree in dismay. He held his weapon at the ready.

A shadow moved in the dark. The Umbra blade of Nocturne shot toward Damien like a javelin. Their blades collided and Damien was pushed harder into the rough bark. A second Umbra blade slithered from the shade like a snake at light speed. He rolled from the tree as a soft thud like a lumberjack's axe stabbed into it. He had to think quick as the wicked blades stabbed furiously at him from above. Many stab wounds left scars into the grass and earth where Damien would lay moments before the Umbra's collision. Damien stood quickly and hid amidst the shadows of wards of bark and leaf.

"_You think I cannot see you, meatbag? I own the dark… I am the dark…_" rage seemed to tickle the shrill voice of the night.

A flick of the shadow's arm broke through the cloud and a deep gash ripped open on Damien's right shoulder. He recoiled and retreated meters away. He tried his best to hide himself well. His sanctuary was found atop a group of trees seemingly out of Nocturne's sight.

_Focus…_ he told himself.

Knives of fire were burning into his wound as the contaminated air around him found its way into his open and vulnerable body. The thick fog of darkness illuminated and the Moon began to brightly rain its light onto him. Nocturne was gliding nearby. He jumped from the branches to land onto his bent knees behind the specter.

"Even the Moon still illuminates in darkness." He said.

"_Your pathetic steel cannot hurt the embodiment of your deepest fears. I am not physical, I am not real. I am your dreams at night, your fears in the dark, your paralysis in your terror. I AM THE HORRORS OF THIS WORLD!_" The chilling scream shot winter ice into the wind around them.

Damien stared in silence and confidence. The enraged monster began recklessly throwing its bladed arms toward him. The white wisps around his body whipped and writhed. His eyes glowed their marvelous white light. His blade hungered. As an Umbra blade missed his body, he took his chance to rip into his ghost-flesh. A trench cut into the black shadow caused the abomination to screech in agony. Swiftly he slashed until the shade was no more.

A familiar warmth spread back into his conscience as the stars in the sky twinkled back into existence. He sat under a tree trunk with his wound stinging. Damien laughed a laugh of relief before taking out the blue chalk and recalling beneath the dark night in the forest.

_"Ten minutes left into the match's time limit"_, Rengar told his partners.

_"Was I… really in those trees for half an hour?"_ Damien exclaimed.

_"So you've experience the Eternal Nightmare, eh?"_ Katarina purred.

Viktor and Vladimir were battling over the second tier tower in Viktor's lane against Katarina, Twitch, and Rengar as Damien trekked from the fountain and toward their location.

Draven was locked in heated combat between Singed and Darius. His axes screeched through the thick air as Singed stepped from their direction. He was moving at breakneck speeds, and a toxic cloud was contaminating the minions' breathing before they dropped to the earth in death. Draven had began to run towards his tower while stopping every few seconds to hurl one of his axes to his pursuers. An innocent vial soared passed him and crashed to the earth. A yellow substance spread across the grass and obstructed Draven's path. He took his first step into it, and was stopped from taking another.

"What kind of sick shit is this…?" he asked in impatience.

His opponents were gaining to his position. He spun two axes together and let them rip toward Singed's speeding figure. The Chemist ducked to the grass only a few feet from Draven. His heart sunk into his chest. Suddenly something had pierced into his spine. The menacing axe blade of Darius's had traveled past him to his blind spot and its pointed end dug into his back. His jaw hung open and his eyes squeezed shut to stifle a blood curdling scream.

_"Draven!"_ Rengar called from across the Rift.

Darius pulled his handle toward him, causing the pointed end to dig even dipper to his bone, but also removing him from the strong adhesive under his ragdoll feet. Draven had pitifully pulled an axe to duel his seemingly victorious opponent, but Darius's free hand took the blade and dropped it to the grass. His half-closed eyes met Darius's cold and stern ones.

"What are you waiting for!? Kill the bastard!" Singed's cry from feet away.

Draven's eyes closed in pain and he held a sad and pitiful expression on him as Darius's puncturing axe crammed its form into his spine. Minutes of silence passed.

"Fuck you, I'll kill the squirming child." Singed had said and stood from his place.

Darius pulled the axe from Draven's back and his body fell to the ground. Singed walked forward. Step by step. He stopped nearby Darius and had descended his hand when an axe had swung and cleanly cut it off.

The Chemist looked in horror as Darius's furious expression bored into him. He swung his axe upward and gashed the entirety of Singed's torso. More swings as the blade lacerated his arms and legs. The bandages burst from tension release and soaked in a blackish red. Darius drop-kicked his chest and fell to his back. He stomped a heavy boot onto his ribcage and held his headsman's axe high. With a thunderous cry he pulled down the guillotine and in a splash of gore had beheaded his own teammate. A hose of unholy red spurted and eventually weakly leaked from the jagged cut into the corpse's neck. Pocks of blood stained the intimidating armor and square-jawed face of Darius.

He picked up Draven by his regal shirt and gave a remorseful look into his opponent's eyes. Draven look back into his eyes, showing his genuine surprise. Darius felt a twinge of disgust and threw his younger brother across the grass. He gave one last look over toward him before recalling.

With what little strength he had, Draven began to draw his own chakram with his blue chalk.

* * *

It ended in victory for Damien's team. Darius's friendly fire wasn't taken too kindly, and their teamwork dissolved around their consistent arguments of their captain's judgment. The match ended before they could capture the nexus, but they had taken two more towers before the ten minutes expired.

As the team exited the chamber in high spirits, Katarina had embraced Damien without warning and causing him to stumble a little. She said in elation, "I played so poorly but we still won!"

Damien smiled and placed his hands onto her almost bare back. She had repeated the act to each teammate, even Twitch who was too happy to object.

When they reached the Cantina to celebrate, there was rousing applause from quite a few groups of champions. Others merely smiled across the room at them or didn't acknowledge their presence quite at all. They picked a table that was isolated from others.

"Where did Draven run off to?" Katarina asked.

Damien shrugged, and Rengar gave a worried look as he left to fetch drinks ceremoniously for the umpteenth time after a victory of theirs. Twitch still disregarded socializing and was examining the amounts of fluids he had saved from Vladimir's body. Damien's eyes scanned over around the Cantina and stopped on the muscular figure sitting in a lone booth with his face in the shadows. Darius's hands were on a large flagon filled to the brim with something Damien suspected to be alcohol. It always helps after a serious loss, he supposed. Especially if he had caused it with his friendly fire. And then he had actually realized the breadth of Darius's action. He killed Singed but not Draven. He hadn't thought too long about it during the match, his focus had blinded him per se. Curiosity broiled over in his mind.

"You played well, New Bloo- er well… Damien," Katarina snapped him from his thoughts.

He was confused but then realized Katarina had said something. "Oh. Thanks. You did, too." His eyes were across the Cantina.

"At least Draven won't be here to pester me about our bet. Hopefully he forgot!" the raspy voice called.

Rengar returned with their tankards of ale and they heartily drank to their health, and to Draven's where ever he may be. They drank and engaged in merriment for hours into the night until the Cantina had nearly cleared. Twitch had already left after finishing one cup as usual. Rengar was purring as his head was slammed onto the table in deep sleep. Empty mugs littered the table top. Damien was still eying Darius's silhouette in the lonesome booth enjoying his tenth or so drink in solitude.

"They're brothers, you know." Katarina whispered to Damien.

"Draven and Darius?" he asked surprised.

"Yeah. Except they don't really like each other anymore. Some kind of feud between them or something. Draven's a self-centered asshole, though, so I don't think I'd blame his older brother." She smiled.

They were brothers, he thought. And he couldn't bring it upon himself to shed his own blood, no matter how much he hated him. A feeling of great respect flushed into his chest as he stared across the room.

A familiar figure, this one belonging to Draven, walked up to him and sat in the booth. Darius didn't move his neck, but he could tell his eyes were looking to his younger brother. Draven's mouth moved but no sound was audible from his distance, even in the near silence of the Cantina.

He finally finished his last drink and stood from the table. "I'm gonna go."

Katarina stood with him and looked at him for a second. She kissed his cheek and smiled at him. "Sleep well, Damien, we've got a tournament to win." And he left.

The next two days of the tournament passed. Damien had one last game to play, and it would decide his team's victory in the competition. Spirits were high amongst the champions, the last and most greatest match of the month was to be played. Spirits among Damien and his team were confident. Draven's perfect match in the tournament riled every viewer and most champions were rooting for them.

In the intense anticipation, Damien had almost completely forgotten of the woman of the Moonlight. It didn't bother him too much at the time; the last thing he needed was something else to be nervous about. But his curiosity of her identity and immense beauty kept him awake at night.

* * *

The two teams stepped into the dimly lit chamber. Silence vacated the space, but there was tension between each soul. Nobody could speak, not even to give words of encouragement. They sat at their stone benches and waited to be named from the instructor's roster.

The enemy team was called first, starting with their captain Hecarim, the Shadow of War. He was a ghostly centaur clad in the phantom of old and battered war armor. A large bardiche protruded from his beast's back.

Alistar, the Minotaur hulked toward his Summoner next. His large arms and menacing horns intimidated the meek.

Varus, the Arrow of Retribution stalked forward. His body was covered in a strange phenomenon of which Damien couldn't figure out. The wicked bow on his hand seemed to emanate a faint, reddish glow.

Renekton, the Butcher of the Sands was next. The furious and monstrous expression on his reptilian figure complimented his vast array of razor blade teeth and his fearsome weapon. But this could only mean…

Ice that could freeze the depths of hell spread and gripped every part of his body as Leona, the Radiant Dawn was called lastly from the roster. _No…_ he thought to himself. She stepped forward in her bright plating. Her sword was sheathed at her waist and her bulwark shield hoisted on her back. Her beautiful, burning red hair blended with her armor of gold and orange. She gave an apprehensive look toward Damien across the chamber before being summoned.

When he was called lastly to step forward, he endured the rising need to vomit and placed his hand into the Summoner's.

The waning Moon dominated the sky when he stepped off of the fountain. His first match to be held under real moonlight, he thought. Lanterns that shone like lonesome, glowing globes hung from the trees lining the lanes. None of his teammates said anything as they separated.

First Blood went to Varus as Hecarim galloped from the trees and gored Twitch to the bark with his bardiche making him a sitting duck for the hail of arrows sent his way. Damien's team made up for it quickly with Draven killing both Renekton and Alistar single-handedly. His usual boasting carried through their channel, but Damien couldn't hear it. His mind was elsewhere for the match's duration. Upon coming back to lane, Twitch had snuck up on his opponent and blasted holes in his body that grew as the venom gorged itself on its victim.

Calm wind danced through the leaves on the trees Damien passed. It was about twenty minutes in, one tower to none in their favor, and everybody was apparently doing fine without needing help from Rengar or him. He had actually not even shown his face to his enemies yet.

_"Gather with me. We can take down the other tower here."_ Katarina beckoned everybody.

Rengar and Damien met in the trees and waited there patiently as Draven and Twitch stood by Katarina's side. Leona stood with her team around her, and Hecarim in front, many yards away from the Sinister Blade and her allies. The centaur warrior took an odd object from his armor and placed it to his ancient and skeletal mouth. A war-horn sounded across Summoner's Rift before an armada of ghostly horseback warriors assembled to Hecarim's side.

"Ride to war!" his voice rattled like chains.

He held his horn high and his bardiche higher as he, his ghost horsemen, and his companions charged toward the three champions poised for battle.

"This is our queue," Rengar said under his breath and leapt from the trees.

The many sets of hooves stampeded across the verdant grass in the night making sound like rolling thunder. Each rider held spears, swords, and pole-axes in the enemy's direction. As Hecarim pointed his bardiche's blade outward like a lance and nearly reached his enemy, the hunter had flew from the trees and clung to his human torso. Damien swiftly took his spot beside Twitch and concentrated as the Moon's light solidified into his cloudy shield. His blade grew and hungered.

Rengar's carving machete stabbed continuously into Hecarim's unholy armor. The pierced gaps it left leaked of the bluish smoke his form was made of. He roared and steered off of his path towards Katarina and her comrades. The warrior bucked the beast off of his back and over his head, slamming him into the earth. Meanwhile the hallowed specters charged with the rest of Hecarim's team into their enemies. The spirits passed through them and froze their insides as the champions took their advantage swiftly.

Leona's sword brought sunlight into the wounds it gashed and her bulwark bloomed in gleaming gold and orange. Renekton roared his horrific roar as his face grew fearsome and feral. His legs began to enlarge and his sharp toes became sharper. Tempest sands began to whirlwind around his figure and whip at the air. Katarina had been throwing blades, as well as Draven. Twitch hid in the shadows to load his crossbow with special ammunition. Damien was disappearing and reappearing at his enemy's weaknesses and ripping at tendons.

Draven was the first to fall as Renekton dropped his peculiar weapon, tore his arm off like a wing from a fly, and slammed him into a tree. Rengar had taken down Hecarim and joined the skirmish as Leona was fighting Katarina head on. Varus's blighted arm tore into his own torso. He ripped from his innards a black and corrupted tendril that launched itself onto the Sinister Blade. She writhed in its constriction as the infected archer pulled back a bloodthirsty arrow in his monstrous bow. The captured woman drew a deep breath and her body began to spin as her hands found her knives. With the tendril ripped to shreds, she continuously fanned blades in every direction. Many daggers found their way into the hulking reptile Renekton's body, but had barely phased him. Leona retreated behind her shield as it reflected dead blades. Varus fell to the ground a bleeding mess.

Renekton roared and his eyes began to gleam red with fury. The sands whipped and slashed around him. Rengar, Damien, and Katarina jumped onto him as Twitch shot in all of the visible places he could aim for. The reptilian beast gripped Rengar by the neck and threw him onto Damien. They collided with the ground behind a massive force. Millions of ferocious sand blades cut into Katarina's soft skin. She endlessly threw knife after useless knife but they fell as soon as they hit the sand grains. Twitch's bolts mirrored the process. A scaly hand punched her face downward and sent her to her knees. He placed his wicked foot onto her arched back and slammed it to the earth. There was an agonizing scream of the woman in immense pain and a sickening snap of bone as he placed great pressure under his cold-blooded pad. Rengar leapt onto his back but was thrown to the ground immediately. Alistar had found Damien's attention and began stampeding toward him. The treacherous grip of Renekton closed around the lion's neck once more, and choked the last breath from the creature. Twitch had finished loading his crossbow in an effort to finish the unstoppable leviathan. He closed his eyes and began to spray as many bullets as he could as the furious monstrosity stomped closer toward him. The arrows pierced his seemingly invulnerable scales and the venom tremendously devoured the inside. Pain was not known to Renekton. He continued his evil steps toward the defenseless Twitch. He snatched the rat from the ground and tore off its head with his unholy jaws. The reptilian beast finally fell to his knees as the poison consumed the rest of him. His body began to shrink to his origins and his eyes lost their glow. They went glossy as he collapsed by the headless rodent.

A small earthquake trembled below Damien as the raging minotaur pulverized the ground around him. He lost his balance and almost toppled before the animal's fierce head rammed him into the nearest barky skin of a tree. A splash of blood shot out of his throat. Damien quickly stuck his blade into the vulnerable neck of the beast. He roared and let his captive slide to the ground. The cloaked man jumped to the stomping minotaur, gripped the warm and sweaty handle of his dagger, and shivved it further into the behemoth's neck. Blood jutted from the wound as he yanked it from the flesh. A massive and stone-hard arm smashed into Damien and launched him away.

Damien slid on his feet, eventually stopped on all fours, and began to run at his opponent again. The hungering blade under the Moon's power slashed and cleaved and lacerated the minotaur's skin. It recoiled at each strike and eventually his pain threshold was met and he collapsed. Damien jumped onto the fallen colossus to stamp out its last cough of oxygen.

_"End it, Damien!"_ he heard Katarina from the back of his head.

His white eyes looked over to the frozen Leona amidst the aftermath of carnage. Damien took small steps toward his final opponent. She readied her shield and sword.

"The Moon holds the sky. This is my domain, Leona. Do you believe you can win?" He said in friendly competition.

Leona smiled. "The Sun will always illuminate the dark."

Damien scoffed and dashed toward her with his dagger gleaming silver. Her golden aegis deflected his attack without as much as a scratch. It blasted a blinding flash into his eyes and knocked him back. Her sword came from nowhere and slashed against his guardian light. He disappeared and blinked to her backside where he brought his dagger downward, only to have his body bashed with her bulwark and slam to the ground. A golden sword gleaming like fire rained toward him. It stabbed into the grass as Damien rolled away. A blink of an eye and Damien was in the air above her and his boot kicked her head down. His eyes looked down into her defeated face.

"Looks like the Moon's throne isn't challenged." He said with a contemptuous expression.

Leona raised her sword into the air and a small beam of light crashed onto Damien like a meteor from the sky. She swept her blade below his knees, but he dodged it acrobatically. Light that appeared to be from the Sun itself shone around her and illuminated a few meters in all directions.

"You fight well, Damien. But those of the Solari don't lose."

Leona was enjoying a tournament match, but Damien's blood began to boil. How dare she mention the very word? How could she have the audacity?

Damien bared his teeth and his hands began to tremble in rage. He threw himself toward her; his running was unplanned and uneven. Reckless swinging and slashing, cleaving and slicing, gashing and stabbing smashed into Leona's shield as she struggled to hold the blows. Cries echoed from him as his arm thematically moved for each attack. One more wallop on her shield and Leona dropped it to the ground. Damien grabbed her breastplate and held her to him. The sickle-knife pierced into her and she let out a scream. Her wet eyes stared at her opponent incredulously. The rage had faded as he looked into her innocent face. The blade slid out of her slowly and she fell to the ground, keeping her gaze on him.

"Damn…" she said with a weak voice.

Damien looked at her, horror-struck.

"Congratulations, Damien…" She continued with a cough before the enemy team had forfeited, giving the victory and the tournament to Damien's team.

* * *

When he was brought back into the chamber, his team erupted in cheer and jumped onto him. He began squirming under them and pushed them off.

"Please, get the hell off of me…" he clutched his stomach and leaned against the chamber wall to sedate his need to vomit.

They settled down as the enemy team gathered near them and began shaking their hands. Leona found Damien isolated from his companions and cleared her throat to announce her presence. He couldn't look at her. She slowly rubbed her palm across his back and wrapped her arms around him. Her embrace warmed him as she rocked him back and forth.

"Congratulations, once again, Damien."

He turned to look at her beautiful smile. Relief had already settled into him, but he was chilled from the experience of nearly killing the one woman who had ever loved him. Why? He had already believed he held no love for her. Or any romantic love for that matter. And it was the first time rage had consumed his control over his actions. It scared him to think what could happen in the future. Her warm embrace invited his arms around her body. He may not love her like she did him, but she was a professional at comforting him.

Draven stood by him and yelled, "To the Cantina, New Blood!" interrupting his moment.

He, Rengar, and Katarina left the chamber behind Leona's team. She pulled away from him and laughed.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with that." Her gorgeous smile seemed to ease his sick and exhausted body.

"He's not all bad." Damien looked toward the exit. "He's got a good heart under all of that narcissism."

"Have you thought about… us?" The question came, Damien had already anticipated it.

"I have tried to love you. But there is something about you that stops me. I am still held in awe at your beauty and your character. How we are different in personality makes me want you all the more. I still lust for you. But I cannot love you. We both know why. And you've known this answer all along."

She looked down guiltily.

"I'm sorry." She said.

He caressed her cheek with the back of his tired hand. His index finger caught a tear under her eyelashes and he wrapped his arms around her again. He walked her to her apartment room and gave her a final kiss before heading to the Cantina to celebrate with his companions.

Damien walked into the loud and bustling mess hall full of banter on the tournament's results. His team sat at a table, and even Twitch was smiling and laughing with his companions. Damien's spirits lifted as he took his seat next to the captain.

"How wonderful of you to join us," she smiled back at him.

Rengar pushed a mug toward Damien and lifted his own. "To Damien. You're damned amazing at what you do, New Blood." Damien couldn't stifle his grin of gratitude toward his teammates that all lifted their tankards.

"To Damien." Katarina recited, Draven cooed, Twitch squeaked, and Rengar rasped.

They clumsily clanked their cups together and drained them joyously. Midnight came and the Cantina emptied. A few rowdy and drunk groups continued their mirth as Damien's companions all stood from the table. They were silent. Finally, Katarina spoke.

"This is probably the last day we'll be a team." She said solemnly.

Rengar looked over to Draven.

"You know, Draven, you're just about the most narcissistic asshole in the League." The sleazy man grinned and bowed at the 'compliment.' Rengar continued, "But you're one damn good champion. And I don't think I've ever enjoyed a month as much as I have this past one." He hesitated and pulled off his necklace of trophies and thrust it onto Draven's chest and let it drop into his hands. "And if I were ever made a team captain, you can be sure I'd draft you immediately."

He held out his paw. Draven looked at his friend in amazement. A sad smile spread slowly on his face as he took the beast's hand and shook it. "I could say the same for you, friend."

Rengar took a step towards Damien and said under his breath, "And I cannot thank you enough for this past month. We've hunted on the Rift together as equals, and personally I think you've shown the League the best damn first month a New Blood could have. Your skills surpass probably even mine." He held out his hand. Damien took it at a loss of words.

Rengar bowed to Katarina and Twitch before leaving the Cantina.

Draven draped the perfect gift over his head and leaned low in Katarina's direction. He rose and said "You're quite the beautiful woman," he said and she looked genuinely flattered, "but you can be a right witch at times."

"Okay, you're pushing it." She punched his gut.

He gave his confident smile which seemed to be complimented with his newfound jewelry hanging over his shoulders. He turned to Twitch.

"So long, fellow. You're a good shot and played very well."

The rat slunk his head in his direction and closed his eyes respectfully.

"And you, Damien. Even I can admit you had a better first month than me _by far_. I want to wish the best of luck in your endeavors." He shook Damien's hand vigorously and followed Rengar's path out of the room.

Twitch was walking out before he stopped himself and turned towards Damien.

"Goodbye, Damien. You played a great first month."

He looked down on the lonesome companion, and said, "Thank you. I wish good luck in your cause, friend."

Twitch gave a small smile and bowed. Whether it was his genuine wishes of good will, or the mention of him being an equal, Damien didn't know why. The rodent waddled out with his head held high.

Katarina and Damien stood by each other with nothing to say for a few awkward minutes. Eventually she impatiently laughed a little.

"Thanks, I guess. For the great month."

"It wasn't all me. I didn't do that much for the team. We all worked together."

Her visage threw a sarcastic grin, "Okay, thank you for being great at cooperation and coordination."

"You were the team captain. You called the shots. I merely followed orders."

"Oh stop…" her face went pink.

"You played well. But I'm about to faint, so if you don't mind I'm gonna go pass out." He pointed his thumb towards the exit.

"Oh, yeah… alright." She said and kissed his cheek before they departed.

When he slammed onto his bed that had never been as comfortable as it was in that moment, his mind drifted to the other acolyte of the Moon he had witnessed. He had seen her a few days ago, and eagerly awaited to experience the ecstasy for his eyes once more. The way the Moon's light had glistened and danced upon her beautiful hair was the last thing his mind saw before his conscience shut down.

* * *

Rengar had got his wish and was made a team captain at the beginning of the next month. The first champion he drafted was Draven, who still wore his gift dearly. He had approached Damien with the offer, but he refused it. He had wanted to take this month off for himself. There was something he needed to find out.

Throughout the month he spent his days in the Cantina, closely monitoring any matches that his former companions had played in, and practicing. By nightfall, he patiently waited for the Moon goddess to show her divine presence. Her consistent absence from his life began to tug at him. He began to wonder if he had ever seen her in the first place. His mind brought him back to Twitch and his story. Was he really alone? Was the vision of beauty he had seen before a mirage brought on by his agonizing loneliness in this world?

He had just about given up on his search for his moonlit resplendence as he stood beside the lonesome tree under another Full Moon weeks after his encounter when he heard the anticipated footsteps from the forest past the courtyard. Anxiety paralyzed him and he had to fight the urge to hide.

She, the divine beauty under the Moon, exited the shadows under the welcoming trees to find a silhouette standing against her tree. They both stood frozen and stared at each other from many meters away. The moonlit figure coldly walked up to the hallowed apex of leaves. Damien held his awed expression as the Moon's light illuminated her features.

Gracefully he admired her pale and smooth face. Her eyes were painted around a fierce black. A white mark that had seemed somewhat familiar to Damien was illustrated on her beautiful forehead just under her brilliant and glistening hair. Because of her beauty, Damien thought the plain clothes of gray she wore were extravagant. She stopped a few feet from him. From her point of view, Damien's face was obscured from the darkness and the shadow under his hood. The silver of his cloak shone like the Moon itself under the tree.

He spoke softly as his body softly trembled from worry, "If I had been able to approach you before, I would have told you how not even the Moon in its entirety could compare to your beauty."

She had tried to keep her cold expression of indifference toward him, but a slight rouging of her face had not fooled him.

"Who are you?" she said in a careful voice of which to Damien only sounded gorgeous.

"It is a relief to hear of somebody who knows not who I am. Anonymity was my friend, and I wish it were still so."

She reproachfully watched him.

"I am Damien."

Her expression eased a little.

"Diana." She confessed.

Damien's heart was bashing against his chest as he opened his mouth, "May I ask that you accompany me on a walk through the gardens under the beautiful Full Moon?" He stepped toward her and held out his hand low. It was bold, but he was in love with her upon setting his eyes on her visage.

His moonlit face revealed an anticipating expression and silver eyes. Diana looked thoughtfully at him and placed her soft hand into his. Their fingers interlaced and Damien's stomach had fluttered.

They walked in silence past beautiful trees, colorful brush, and sparkling rivers; all of these things seemed to be so much more exquisite in moonlight. Damien consistently stole looks at Diana as they charmingly walked hand-in-hand. She was always looking out to her left and admiring the scenery, but there was a small look of pleasure hidden in her expressionless face.

When they reached the gardens of the Institute, they were bombarded with many amazing flowers and plants. Beautiful, rouge roses hung gracefully from stone pillars hugged with vines; lush tulips loftily stood from bushes barely visible in the darkness. Small streams of water ran through creeks that followed the side of the path the two travelers walked on. The sky was almost shrouded from view under the many tree tops that shielded the gardens.

Damien and Diana entered a small glade, where a miniscule pond splashed in front of a tree surrounded by thickets and fluorescent blossoms. They parted their hands, sat against the tree, and looked toward the basin of water. Diana slid her feet from her boots and placed them upon the deep, green verdure sparkling with dew. Damien noticed and followed suit. They slid easily between the wet blades of grass and calmed his nerves a little.

"You are also a disciple of the Moon." Diana said.

"That would be correct." Damien replied.

"Mm…" she thought out loud.

She looked up toward the sky, no longer blanketed over with leafy rooftops. The Full Moon sat amidst the dark sea and the cosmic web of stars. The small pond was fed from their path's nearby creek and emptied through a brook out of sight from the glade. The sound from the water's traveling was barely audible through the soft and peaceful breeze that slid around the verdant meadows of flowers and trees.

"It's beautiful tonight, isn't it?" she admired the glowing globe in the sky.

"I would much rather look at you." Damien said.

Diana glanced at him and dropped her gaze toward the ground as her pale face lightly blushed.

"Why are you here, Damien? In the League?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. "I wouldn't want to ruin such a wonderful evening with a sad story."

"It seems there is nowhere we can go without being met with disdain for our beliefs." She said solemnly.

"Oh?" Damien asked.

"The Solari had tried to execute me for renouncing my faith of the Sun. It is because of the Moon that I am alive today." Diana had a deep contempt in her glare towards the ground.

"I am bred from the same perpetrator as you are."

She looked at him incredulously.

"My family and I were cast out, thankfully spared from their murderous hands. But my hatred only grew when they had crept into my home and slain my parents under my inadequacy to stop them."

Damien sighed and glanced up toward the exalted Moon.

"I had vowed to serve justice, to bring vengeance. I had vowed to stop the dawn from ever rising again." He looked to her understanding eyes. He stood, slipped his boots back onto his feed, held his hand toward her and beckoned, "Come, we should be heading back. The morning will come soon."

They walked past many thickets and brush and came out of the gardens back to the clearing with their hands linked. When they reached the lone tree, Diana had tugged his arm to stop. He had turned to see what she had wanted, but was immediately frozen when her affectionate lips slowly pressed against his. A tingling ecstasy spread through his body before she had stopped. For the first time, she smiled at him. Damien collapsed against the tree as he watched the true beauty of the Moon disappear from view.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Sorry for the wait! This is a pretty big chapter. It is immense both in length and content, so I hope you enjoy!

The song that Diana sings can be found here: watch?v=8ajX6oFoegU (Place this in the address bar on YouTube)

Note that I do not own the song, nor did I write it. I just felt that _obviously_ it should be used in this story.

And as always, thank you for reading, and I pray you readers will leave a review with your thoughts so I can know how to further improve my work.


	5. Chapter 4 - A Team of Shadows

**Chapter 4 – A Team of Shadows**

_Looking up at the stars in the night sky that surrounds the Moon, he wonders what it would be like to be among them; them, the celestial children of the cosmic sea that holds our world afloat. The thought intrigues him and he balances on the line between asleep and awake. A tingly feeling just barely touches the ends of his nerves. He's lost in space and he's drifting endlessly in the ocean of time. He's cold, so very cold, but he's filled with the excitement of traveling alone. Soft and chilling wind blows past him as he drifts through waves of the deep. He dreams… he dreams…_

* * *

Small drops from the cool drizzle lightly slid onto and kissed Damien's face as he slowly roused from his sleep under the beautiful thickets and rose bushes that roofed his glade. The small creek made little _plink!_ noises as water collided with water. The sky was a dull yet beautiful gray that mingled with saturated tints to mimic a twilight. The grass that supported his body was a darker and lusher green than before, and the rouge of the roses were flushed an even richer red. Deep, hydrated brown almost muddied the ground beneath the many plants and verdure.

A drop splashed onto Damien's closed eye and woke him up for good. He sat up as the drizzle pat his head and seemed to romantically embrace him. His hands grabbed at the drenched and soggy bark of the closest tree to help his tired self up. A dull loneliness spread through him as his mind sobered. Another night he sat outside waiting for the lovely Diana. He guessed it was true; his assumption that she only came out on the night of a Full Moon seemed the only plausible one. It had been a few days since he last saw her, and her lips had gracefully interlocked with his.

His boots squished against the beautifully grown grass and softened earth as he left his little glade and eventually the luscious gardens filled with resplendent flowers and exquisite thickets. The entrance into the Great Hall was coming into view as he passed withered stone pillars tangled among vines and thorn bushes. The smell of many heavenly plants lifted as he stepped onto the grounds and toward the building.

The early morning ecstasy and the kissing rain ceased as he stepped inside. His hair was hardly wet from the light drizzle. Thick claps echoed through the Hall as his boots stepped onto the stone flooring. He walked past many whispering Summoners in mystic cloaks and even a few fellow champions on his way to the Cantina. The month was beginning and he was drafted; he traversed through the Hall to meet his new team. His mind was on Diana as he stepped into the packed and noisy eatery.

Many teams sat together among the tables and booths and benches in sub-rooms designed especially for such groups, but they all seemed to be whole in members; none seemed to be missing one. Damien traveled toward the food counter all the while scoping out which team could possibly be his. He saw Draven among a table of four women (a place he seemed to be enjoying rather kindly). Rengar didn't appear to be in the Cantina (perhaps he was taking this month off as Damien had before), and Katarina was included in a group of champions unknown to Damien. He was about to take some breakfast before something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.

"You are Damien, yes?" a familiar, snake-like voice wheezed behind him.

Damien turned to see a warrior in black cloth, shade-colored helmet, and red garments around his ornate, silver equipments. He tensed his body. The shining sheaths atop his forearms held the wicked, steel blades that familiarly danced with murder just two months before in this very room. The ninja stood with his arms crossed over his chest and an odd, black smoke casually breathing out of his body. His voice seemed to imitate a man with a lung disease, probably due to the weird mask, Damien thought.

"Who asks?" Damien replied.

"I am Zed, the Master of Shadows. I am the captain of the team that drafted you."

Damien slackened.

"We are in a nearby room if you care to join us and get acquainted."

And then the disciplined and intimidating fighter bowed respectfully. Damien tipped his head and followed him to one of the sub-rooms near the back of the Cantina where the rest of his team awaited his presence in the council.

The chamber was small, circular, and dark. It resembled a booth, but was slightly larger and was a full circle that could seat a group rather than just a pair of three. A chandelier of small candles hung from the high ceiling and lightly illuminated the blue walls and seats. Obsidian-colored cups belonging to four champions decorated the table's face, along with a single ash tray. The benches around the table weren't full, but were occupied by his new companions. Sitting among the table was a young and scruffy looking man with a bent cigarette poking from his lip; an odd woman with gray-like skin and artisan-crafted armor resembling a dragon's features; and lastly, a horrific image of a skeletal figure in ringed clothing with billowing, green flares about his bones and a hooked chain wrapped around his arms and back.

Zed spoke first, "This is Damien, the Moon's Whisper. He will be our fifth companion."

They all eyed him as though studying.

"Graves, the Outlaw." Said the young man as he crushed the end of his cigarette into the tray.

"Shyvana, the Half-Dragon." The odd woman placed her elbows on the tables and crossed her arms as she leaned forward and put her face into the light. Her eyes were lizard-like.

"Thresh, the Chain Warden." The specter grinned its black grin of unholy teeth with sharp edges like saws.

"Let's get one thing straight here, Damien," Zed hissed like smoke, "we train each day, twice. Our first match had better be perfect otherwise this team will go nowhere and fast. I expect perfection this month, and I will have it. That goes without saying you are probably used to such a schedule, considering your skills are regarded among your former allies. Training should come as no burden to you."

Damien nodded once and kept silent.

"Wuz that supposed to be our pep talk?" Graves said in a southern drawl.

The Chain Warden, who was caressing the scythe-blade at the end of his rusty chain whip with one black and bony finger, grinned his way. Shyvana sat with a smirk. Zed ignored his comment., although Damien could feel the face of contempt hidden under his mask.

In the blink of an eye Graves was slammed against the wall, his feet dangling just inches above the floor. Zed's right arm was against his upper chest and pinning him to the wall as his left forearm twitched to slide his twin-blades from their sheath. The blades were millimeters from the tissue of the Outlaw's neck.

"So help me, you little worm, there is not a damn thing that could stop be from planting my fist and blades into your throat." The ninja spat.

Graves gave no struggle and showed no fear in his dirt-filled complexion.

"Then do it." He dared calmly.

Zed let his arm off of his victim that slid to the floor on the flat of his feet.

"I want to win." Zed merely said before leaving the chamber.

"Interesting captain we have." Thresh had said, and went back to caressing his chain's bladed end.

Graves coolly found his set and pulled out a large and amateurly-made shotgun to clean as Shyvana quietly sat back from the candles' light.

"Did he say when we were going to begin training?" Damien finally spoke.

"This afternoon." The woman answered.

Damien walked out of the chamber without another word and went to find his familiar booth. He had lost his appetite and settled on reviewing some recent matches for entertainment and a little bit of study before the gray-skinned woman found a seat across in his booth. She gave a small smile when he looked up from his viewing-stone.

"You didn't really give us a chance to get acquainted with one another before disappearing." Shyvana said in a friendly tone.

"Shyvana, right?" Damien asked.

She nodded.

"I apologize, I suppose. I'm not too sure how you have ran with your teams in the past, but in my little experience we didn't fret on learning about each other."

"Oh?" she looked quizzically at him.

"Well… not at first meetings. We kind of grew towards it as we cooperated and became a little friendlier, I guess." He seemed a little embarrassed at his unintentional lie and experienced a small pinch of longing to be with his former companions.

"Although Graves wasn't very friendly and Thresh not very social, I could say I'm currently being rather friendly to you: seeking you out and wanting your story," she pressed.

"What is so interesting about me that you would want to learn of? I was merely a hired blade and now I'm a champion in the League for my expertise with a knife and a bit of concealment." Damien said in an annoyed-sounding tone, although he was indifferent on the subject.

She figured his mood matched his tone and looked a little taken aback. "I sought what I just told you. Your story, I mean to learn."

Damien hesitated and searched himself for deceit.

"Glory, honor, money, what have you. That's all I see in this institution for me." He lied.

"I would have to be a fool to believe that. It is a belief of mine that every champion here has a unique purpose for being so, and none of those purposes are general fame or money." Shyvana merely smiled.

He let loose a respecting twitch of a smile on his face.

"I have a goal I wish to see done. Its nature I will not reveal to you, nor its specifics. Revenge would be too brash a word; I prefer justice. Do you understand?"

"Somebody, or many people, have wronged you?" she replied.

"Correct." He placed his hand back onto the stone.

"Are you not going to ask anything of me?" she interrupted.

"I don't wish to sound rude, but I couldn't care less about my companions' pasts or their wishes. What matters to me is their character and willingness to cooperate and play a good match." Damien revealed.

"Alright, I'll give you what you wish. I don't give up easily, and I like to fight… _fiercely_," Shyvana explained and had a blissful expression as she said the last word.

Damien smiled at her. "Consider me convinced of your worth on the team," he said. "It was a joy meeting you, and I look forward to our endeavors on the Fields."

"You're quite the character, Damien." She said as she stood from the booth. "But I like that."

She smiled and left him to the blue and glowing rock atop the table he vacated.

* * *

The week went slowly by with his grueling training sessions on the Fields of Justice. His team captain was vicious in orders, and the ruffian Graves was unstoppable in his being snarky. Despite his rebelliousness, the Outlaw was fairly skilled in his ability to blast away his targets and use his agility to get himself out of bad situations. Zed had noticed quickly and searched himself to find a way to deal with his companions' sarcastic acts. _If he wins_, he thought, _then to hell with his attitude_.

Shyvana hadn't shown her true potential during training, or so she would continually remind her teammates with her short temper. When she was angry, she distantly reminded Damien of the reptilian horror Renekton. The colossus of terrifying sand and furious claws that nearly tore down his entire team single-handedly and without weapon during his last match. Such an event seemed as though it happened the day before, rather than roughly a month and a half ago. The Half-Dragon was a relentless fighter and every bit of "fierce" as she relayed to Damien. Her claw-like weapons ripped through the soft flesh of her adversaries and her artistically crafted armor protected her from any blow sent her way. The nasty temper she possessed displayed frequently and resulted in attempted physical abuse towards her companions. When Damien had thought about it, he liked to input emphasis on the word "attempted" because that's just what it was. She was usually blinded with fury and never harmed anybody on her side. Although just once she had landed a punch square on Damien's chest when he was laughing hysterically at Graves' constant goading and teasing toward her during one of her furious spouts. Damien was smashed into a tree with enough force to split the trunk down the middle (the tree had actually fallen after he had stood up). Shyvana, after cooling off, sputtered an apology and blushed profusely.

Thresh was an oddity to Damien. He was usually quiet, but when he did speak he uttered unusual things under his breath. An enigma made of green clouds and bones and clothed in dark leather and a black and rusty chain wrapped about him. He seemed to enjoy caressing his weapon's scythe-end. A grin of pure ecstasy gleamed on his face when the hook impaled an enemy. When his enemies were absent, he took to slowly killing minions he could find and was pleased with every second of it. The ghostly lantern he held glowed eerily. And when Damien got close he could hear distant screams of torture _in the lantern_.

"Have you ever seen a soul?" Thresh said in his cold and spiritual voice when he noticed him looking.

Damien gave him an apprehensive look.

"Would you like to?" the specter asked and held out his lantern.

Damien took a frightened step back as millions of unearthly sounds echoed from the light's chamber. Thresh merely grinned his razor teeth at him and took his device back to study it quietly.

Zed was a strategic mastermind, or so it seemed to Damien. How quickly he could judge the field while swapping with his shadows and commanding their actions with perfect precision was beyond human capabilities. When he made a call, his team followed and with success (even if Graves would object or make a comment, he followed anyway). His slipperiness made Damien's agility appear sluggish. As much as anybody tried, Zed remained untouchable.

Now, Damien sat in his booth after their final training session. Their first match was the next day, one of many more to determine their place in the month's tournament. It was his first alcoholic drink since his distant celebration and it was warming his insides and calming the little bit of nerves he had. He hadn't played in a real match since his perfect month. A shaded body dropped itself into his booth on that slow, early night.

"You ready for your first match, Damien?" a familiar, raspy voice boomed across him.

Rengar's snout and hunter's eyes leaned out of the ceiling's shade and into the Cantina's light.

"Just about. You could say I've got some nerves." Damien answered.

"Don't drink too much of that, otherwise you'll have a headache on your first match this season. We wouldn't want that, would we?" he said in a feigned motherly tone.

Damien placed his flagon onto the table and with a small smile said, "How well did you and Draven do last month? I only watched two or three matches, didn't get the whole story."

"We lost near the beginning of the tournament. That damn alligator that near annihilated us last time is a true team-killer with his temper."

"You recruited that monster?"

"Was I not the only one amazed at how well he ripped us apart, excluding you, with his own claws and teeth?" Rengar scratched the fur atop his head with a single sharp finger from his paw.

"I've got somebody who could probably have an even shorter temper on my team. She's pretty much a lizard, too."

"Ahhhhhhhh…. You've got Shyvana, it seems."

"Yeah. Punched me into a tree and nearly snapped my back."

Rengar began roaring with laughter. He mopped a tear from his eye when he calmed.

"Yeah… she'll do that. She was a right witch to me when we worked together once. Never had a nice thing to say to a cat like me."

"She wouldn't stop apologizing, or well… trying to, is the better phrase. Couldn't get a word out without stuttering. Her gray face turned red, if that was even possible."

Rengar gave him a queer smile.

"Sounds like she likes you, huh?" he said.

"Me? No no no no, it is _not_ like that!" Damien held his hands out in protest.

"I'm only joking. I don't think a ferocious woman like her could even have sentimental feelings. And besides, there's nothing to like about a little shit like you." The lion laughed.

Damien took another drink from his tankard.

"Were you made a captain again?" he inquired.

"Nah. You have any idea how much insanity somebody needs to _want_ captainship? Having to assert your leadership _every single minute_ to unruly champions,-" Damien was reminded of Graves "giving orders while simultaneously fighting opponents, and keeping your eyes on your companions' actions. It's too brutal of work." Rengar sighed.

"Decided not to be a tactician, just a ruthless weapon on the Field?"

"I can't put it in a better way. No idea how Katarina pulled a bunch of idiots like us together and won games."

"Yeah… Our cooperation had a hand in our success, though. You and Draven were great friends."

Rengar leaned back and blissfully looked up at the ceiling.

"Remind me, if I ever get the hell out of here, to get a new necklace. Practically all of my trophies were strung on the one I gave Draven. But he's taking care of it, and that I'm content with."

Damien eyed his reminiscing when something occurred to him. The only friend he ever had was Leona, and they were no longer so close for nearly a decade.

"Well, I'd say I wasted enough of your time catching up, eh?" Rengar stood.

Damien stood with him and held out his hand. It was ignored as the lion's large arm wrapped around Damien and gripped him in a back-breaking hug. He dropped him to his feet.

"It was great chatting," he said.

"Oh man, go a little easier next time!" Damien sarcastically complained and held a hand to his back. "But yes, it was fun. Have yourself a nice night."

"Will do, Damien." And he disappeared from the Cantina.

Damien finished his cup, sighed, and also left. He would need the sleep, he thought as he exited the Cantina and trekked toward the accommodations' complex. Hushed voices were talking amongst each other and it took Damien a few minutes to realize they weren't the usual odd sounds that issued from across the halls. They belonged to champions.

"I have always loved you, Leona, even after you left for the Solari!" Damien's ears twitched at the word and he backed against the corner leading into the hallway to listen.

This voice was familiar to him. It belonged to somebody he knew a long time ago, but he had been a child then. Pantheon, the Artisan of War, was a close friend of Leona's living on Mount Targon. Damien had always noticed them playing in childhood and walking together in adolescence. They had been close until Leona had moved up further in the mountain and they never saw much of each other again. This was somebody Damien had almost completely forgot. He decided to stop eavesdropping and turn the corner to find his way to his room.

There were a few more whispers Damien couldn't quite make out. He looked over toward his two figures of interest. A large man in bland clothing stood a few inches taller over the avatar of the Sun in bright clothing. He figured they couldn't see Damien in the dark as they went on whispering and talking.

Just barely audible, Damien heard Leona say, "I don't… I don't know, Pantheon. It was so long ago I-"

The man embraced her and their faces met. Leona had not objected and they went on kissing each other even as Damien drew closer. He made an accidentally audible step (_Damn these halls,_ he thought) and the woman's eyes shot open. She ripped herself from Pantheon's arms and forced her gaze toward the floor with her face burning red. Pantheon turned to face his new company. Damien stopped to meet his eyes.

Pantheon had changed from the young teen aged boy Damien had remembered. His face was clear from his long and brown hair, and had been unscathed, probably due to his skill in killing his enemies before they even scratched him. Damien and Leona had been roughly the same height, so Pantheon looked downwards to scan him.

After studying each other, Damien began to walk to his room. The silence seemed to grow louder. As he reached the end of the hall without a word, he heard another whisper from Leona that sounded like "I'm sorry," before she scurried off to find her own apartment. Small amounts of hatred were beginning to develop in him recently. Every time he had witnessed Leona, a black hole inside him would slowly grow. The passion fueling his detestation of the Solari was slowly returning to its peak from when he was freshly victimized by them; a feeling Damien welcomed as well as feared.

Damien opened the door to his room and fell to his sheets in exhaustion. He thought of Diana again before fainting.

* * *

A brief second where Damien couldn't breathe lead him into the Fields of Justice. In the fountain he stood as Shyvana and Graves appeared next and last. On this team Damien was expected to lane. The only roaming that would be done would be from their team captain. Damien didn't mind at all; Zed's strategies usually ended in success when followed. He and his team were standing off against Fiora, the Grand Duelist; Kha'Zix, the Voidreaver; Xin Zhao, the Seneschal of Demacia; Jarvan IV, the Exemplar of Demacia; and, for a second time, Vladimir, the Crimson Reaper.

Damien took a lane by himself, leaving Graves and Thresh to take one and Shyvana the other. He reached his lane first and witnessed the first of many skirmishes between arsenals of minions before his opponent Fiora showed herself. She was slender and wore agile clothing. Her right hand brandished a thin but deadly sword. She spoke with a thick accent when she was within walking distance of him.

"Show me if you are a worzy opponunt!"

Fiora dashed toward Damien with her blade in a lunging form and stabbed away. With haste, Damien pulled his knife and began deflecting and dodging her strikes to the best of his ability. Her strikes were quick and pinpoint precise, and Damien began to believe he wouldn't keep up his acrobatics for long. When she seemed to drop her guard for a split second, he took his chance and ripped at her with his dagger. Fiora swiftly and easily blocked it with her blade and swung up to gash his arm. Part of the tail of his cloak was sliced clean off as the wound on his blade-arm began to soak his garments darker. Damien recoiled and dropped his knife.

"Keep op! I am hardly trying!" she taunted.

_"Is she giving you trouble, Damien?"_ Zed's voice inquired.

_"I'll be fine. Just need a little help to shut her up just this once. Coming?"_ he replied.

_"Yes. I'll be there in a few seconds."_

Damien stood and picked his weapon back up. Fiora rested back into an idle stance and held her rapier forward. Her left hand was place on the back of her hip. She swung her blade a few times before returning to her position and eyed Damien. A shadow of Zed's appeared behind her and formed into his shape. Once it solidified to the Master of Shadows, Fiora turned and recoiled fast enough to escape his spiked fist. In a split second, a shadow was behind her again and interchanged with Zed. She turned once more and furiously swiped her blade at him. Her blade came down to him and struck the ornate sheath on one of his forearms. Zed's arm shot upward to deflect her attack. She stumbled two steps back and began to fall, but was caught. A sickening noise echoed from behind her as her back landed onto Damien's knife. He pulled it out, slashed her neck, and dropped her to the earth. Zed gave him a nod before jumping into the trees surrounding the lane. He disappeared as Damien wiped his blade, tore some cloth from his cloak, and wrapped it around his gash.

"Your own blood will be used against you!" the hemomancer jeered in Shyvana's face as she drew closer toward him.

"Shut your little damn mouth," she could feel her temper being pinched.

Her eyes flashed red and she yelled before flames began to swirl around her figure. She ran toward Vladimir with increased agility, burning the grass and stray minions along her path. Her fists slammed and jabbed into his torso as the flames around her engulfed him as well. Knives of red stabbed into her, but she was resistant to such trifles as pain. A blade of fire formed at the end of one of her gauntlets as she poised for a last strike. When it connected to Vladimir's face, his head had turned a deep red and _splashed_ from her hit. For a second he was headless, but then his body had dissolved into blood and it pooled under Shyvana. Her flames died out as the blood moved around her. She danced over it in confusion. The red reformed into the Crimson Reaper who now stood at her back. His sharp hand stabbed into her back and she let out a cry. The arm that held her spine trembled before her chest blew out and gore gushed from the explosion. The Half-Dragon fell after his hand let her loose. Her pain was too much to bear and she couldn't even utter a scream. Her mouth gaped until her last breath was cut from her throat. A vapor of brick-red rose into the air like a visible aroma and carelessly floated about the air around the two champions. Vladimir took in a long breath and the blood absorbed into him. He exhaled in ecstasy and kicked Shyvana's corpse over to walk along the lane.

Xin Zhao stood valiantly next to his companion Jarvan IV. His rough cloth armor billowed over his arms and legs as the wind blew against his face. The long, dark hair on his head ran with the air. He spun his spear around his right hand in a boasting manner and stopped to hold a stance. Jarvan stood erect with a waving flag mounted atop the back of his glorious, golden armor. A fine crown of regality was placed upon his head and interwoven with his lengthy black hair. His right hand held a fiercely crafted lance with many blades jutting from the quarterstaff-handle's end. He held it like a walking staff as the standard on his back streamed behind him and his companion.

Thresh made the first move. He wound up his chain-and-hook and cast it out toward the statues of his enemies. Xin Zhao swiftly jumped from its aim before the scythe-blade stabbed into the ground where he once stood. He soundlessly dashed along the chain's length to reach its thrower. When he reached Thresh, he forced the tip of his spear toward him. Within a few seconds, the Chain Warden had pulled his blade from the earth and began to whirl his chain around Xin Zhao to prevent him from attacking or even moving. The spearman jumped above the bindings and delivered a swift kick to Thresh's skull. He doubled backward with a grin on his face. Xin Zhao's blood went cold as the scythe-blade dug into his back. Jarvan was trailing towards his friend in an effort to help him, but his actions were in vain. Thresh's victim was forcefully pulled with the chain further away from Jarvan and toward Graves. The Outlaw pulled close to Xin Zhao's face.

"Why don't y'all meet your death with a smile?" he laughed.

Demacia's Seneschal spat in his left eye and Graves angrily punched his cheek in return. He cocked his odd shotgun and let go a large scatter-shot. Xin Zhao's body was obliterated as Graves's arm recoiled. Thresh pulled the hook from the corpse's spine.

"Another soul for my… collection…" the Chain Warden blissfully stated as a greenish and ethereal soul lifted from the cadaver.

He ran a caressing hand over his lantern and opened its chamber latch to let the stray spirit into its new prison.

Meanwhile, Jarvan continued to sprint in their direction. The Exemplar pulled the Demacian Standard from his back with his free hand and launched it toward Thresh as he drew near. It bulleted toward him and nailed him to the ground. Jarvan was in the air with his deadly lance's spearhead pointed downward. The man hammered toward the ground and the blade smashed into the chest cavity of the Chain Warden and ended his life. Jarvan swiftly slid his lance out of Thresh's body, spun it, and turned toward Graves. Graves was loading another buckshot into his gun, readying for Jarvan's attack. He had anticipated it well enough, but what he didn't expect was the nature of his adversary's weapon. The blades on Jarvan's lance extended fiercely and impaled Graves's shoulder. Jarvan dropkicked the fallen Outlaw and pierced his heart with the weapon's bloodied point.

_"Pick it up, I'm coming to help, Shyvana."_ Zed channeled.

Shyvana braced herself and the flames began to swirl around her once more. Vladimir looked confident even after Zed showed himself and bolted to attack. He liquefied into the sanguine pool once more causing Zed to collide with the ground behind it. Another figure, resembling an insect-like creature fell from the sky and made to smash onto Zed. Acting as quickly as he could, he formed a shadow nearby and swapped places with it. Vladimir gained his shape once more and his skirmish with Shyvana began.

Kha'Zix displayed his sickle-like, bladed arms that protruded from his carapace torso and glimmered under a cloud of thick, purple vapor. His large eyes glared menacingly to Zed as acidic saliva slowly dripped from his mouth full of thorny teeth. Large, moth-like wings protruded from his spiked back but lay motionless. A disgusting sight to behold, Zed thought. The Master of Shadows stood and gained his posture. He tossed a black and red shuriken that bulleted toward his enemy. The insect easily strafed to the left and then to the right to dodge the shadow's projectile. It leaped toward Zed to strike, but only hit a shadow as he swapped once more. A blade cut into the spiked backside of the carapace and black fluid slipped from it. The Voidreaver spun and swiped his scythe arms. Zed traded with his shadow a third time but missed his follow-up attack. Kha'Zix leapt from the earth, hit the bark of a tree, and rebounded to strike Zed at a blindside. A gasp and bone-crunching sound signaled his success as the Voidreaver's blade was lodged deep into the ninja's back. Kha'Zix stood atop the fallen Zed, pulled out his blade, and crushed the man's vertebrae.

As Kha'Zix and Zed fought, Shyvana and Vladimir traded blows. The woman was seemingly going to win, landing every blow to Vladimir's vital organs with her twin-strikes. His regeneration capabilities were no match for her brute force, but Kha'Zix had so soon defeated Zed that he had rushed to Vladimir's aid before she could finish him. The Crimson Reaper sat back and consumed more minions' lives with his sanguine sphere as Kha'Zix furiously swiped his bladed arms across Shyvana's armor. Flames from her arms shot to her fists to create blades of fire, but before she could hit her adversary he had disappeared. She took a step back and prepared for the worst. Kha'Zix reappeared behind her and stabbed one scythe into her back, and the other he reached around and stuck into her gut. She let out a groan as Vladimir's globe of blood shot many knives made of the sanguine liquid into her.

"You truly are a poor fighter," the Grand Duelist and Damien were dueling once more.

Damien ground his teeth together in an effort to ignore her attempts to pull him off guard with taunts and anger. Small sparks jumped from their blades as they clashed continuously. Fiora held her left hand on her hip and lazily fought with Damien as though she were bored with their duel. Sweat burst from Damien's hair and drenched his face as he struggled to keep up with her. A peculiar blur slugged around him as he fought. Attention bolted into him as he realized what was coming. A disgusting scream pierced his ears as the blur ceased and unveiled Kha'Zix whose bladed arm was already lodged into Damien's back. He twisted and forced the insect's weapon from him and swiped his knife at him. His efforts were futile, and he fell on his back to the earth. Kha'Zix's body was twitching and shaking as he bent on his knees. The blades on his arm grew, and the carapace-like skin above them stretched with sickly noises crawling from them. Indigo-colored spikes erupted from his body and emanated an unexplainable phenomenon of a purple hue. This evolved being looked down to Damien.

"Change…" he thought for a second and grinned. "…is _good_." The spikes that protruded from him blasted forth and impaled Damien.

Despite the early skirmishes going favorably for the enemy team, turret captures were almost even and victory looked achievable for either side. Pessimism spread through Damien's teammates. Condescension was prevalent in Zed's tone when he barked orders, but hope was still kindling in his words at the thought of having an underdog victory. The brilliant tactician Damien had praised before was being outmatched by champions Damien had never even seen in action. Either side's victory was going to be set in stone pretty soon as the grouping began and battles consisting of the entire team were soon to erupt.

After amassing together in the middle lane to try and take the enemy team's second tower in the area, Damien was caught off guard from a cloaked Kha'Zix. He had drawn out the Moon and had its protection, but the unearthly blades pierced his shield and lacerated his legs. Shyvana had acted quickly and gave a furious punch to the insect's face to send it soaring above the ground. Damien was trying to cover his wounds with ripped cloth but the enemy team was already advancing on their advantage. Kha'Zix had cloaked once again, but met the unforgiving buckshot of Graves's rifle. Black blood spurted from the monster's face and painted the grass. The twitching carcass fell to the front of Xin Zhao and almost tripped him on his journey.

"Hope they're ready for this!" Shyvana's voice grew menacing.

She screamed, and eventually that scream erupted into a loud and booming roar that couldn't have possibly come from a young woman. A large inferno of flame scorched the air as the hellfire soared toward the advancing opponents. Where a human would've landed crashed a gigantic dragon of red and black. Fire spouted and spun around the colossal creature. Fiora had the displeasure of being within grasp of the beast, and was eviscerated immediately. She stumbled from the force of the dragon's landing and was taken up in its giant claws to be crushed under its grip and thrown from the field. Another roar rumbled through the Rift as the battle had begun.

Thresh's hook latched onto (or more accurately: impaled) Vladimir and whisked him toward Zed. They had hypothetically committed suicide as a nova of blood exploded and rained upon them. The hemomancer dissolved into his red pool as Zed's blood boiled and eventually ruptured his fragile body. Thresh remained unaffected but badly injured. Xin Zhao dived forward with Jarvan both excited with fervor. Graves smacked his rifle to open an ammunition port. He stuffed a large bullet into the barrel, slapped it shut, and let it fire. It hit Jarvan's chest and exploded with the force of many gunpowder shots. The Exemplar's armor was shredded as he fell to his knees. Xin Zhao stabbed the end of his spear into the defenseless Damien, whipped him into the air and launched him to the ground. He swung his spear and gashed right into Graves's chest leaving a mortal wound. Thresh launched his scythe chain towards Xin Zhao; the Seneschal caught the chain under the blade, pulled the Chain Warden in his direction, and planted his spearhead into the victim's skeletal face. The green gleams in his eyes were put out as his soul slipped away.

Vladimir resurfaced but was annihilated by the scorching breath of Shyvana's dragon-form. For once, his own blood had boiled. The immensely tall dragon stood over Xin Zhao, the army of one. Afar, Jarvan was too weak to stand from his knees, and instead called to his friend.

"Xin! Slay this monstrosity!" He commanded.

The prince detached the beautiful and glimmering standard from the back of his armor (miraculously untouched from the explosion of Graves's special weapon) and threw it across the plane. The Moon was fading into the navy-blue dark as the Sun was beginning to rise. A canvas of bright colors was painted on the horizon as Xin Zhao caught the waving banner and brandished his warrior's lance. Shyvana roared and Xin Zhao gave a war cry as they charged for each other.

One step too close and he'd be destroyed. He launched from his origin with the flag in both hands held above his head. He was still screaming as he brought the standard's bladed seat down and planted it into the spine of the dragon. It roared in agony and began swinging its back around to knock him off. Blood from his adversaries caked onto his face and light armor. The flag valiantly waved and Xin Zhao had hopped onto the neck of Shyvana and began stabbing into it with his spear. Ichor shot from her wounds like small jet streams as he slid his way down to her head. Her snapping jaws almost grasped his arm before he gave another cry and planted his spear into her skull. He held onto her neck as the dragon swayed lazily. Shyvana swung her body one last time and fell to the ground with Xin Zhao straddled onto the scaled neck.

"Let's win this," Xin Zhao held a supportive hand down to Jarvan and pulled him up.

They took two towers on their own before they were forced to recall and recover.

The Moon was up in the throne once more as the final battle took place. It was a desperate struggle to end the match as they skirmished. Zed was barking as many orders as he could while fighting on his own. Fiora was dancing amongst her enemies with her sword swinging about. Damien had caught her off her guard and furiously stabbed his hungering knife into her multiple times. Xin Zhao rushed past him and knocked him to the ground before skewering Graves onto his spear and taking his life. Zed appeared from the shadows and quickly silenced him with the blades from his braces. The proud warrior fell quietly. Kha'Zix unveiled himself behind Zed and struck. His ethereal blade slashed through a smoked clone of shadow. The steel bracer on Zed's left forearm smashed into the Voidreaver in an uppercut. Chaotic spikes shot from the carapace and left gashes in Zed's torso. Damien had tried to strike Kha'Zix, but was knocked aside before the insectoid charged for Zed. Their combat was quick and silent. As they fought, Zed continued to issue orders. Eventually, Zed fell. Damien was apprehended by Jarvan and separated from his team.

Shyvana had unleashed her fury once more and was built into a dragon. Her first action was the complete decimation of Vladimir before he could use his destructive control of blood. His hemoplague had erupted, but its only target was the hulking dragon. As he died, Shyvana had to contain the pain she felt as her blood ruptured. She slackened and returned to her human form to keep herself from death. As she regained her energy, Thresh's hook at clawed into the back of Kha'Zix and he was pulled away. Kha'Zix immediately wrought free from the clench of Thresh's weapon and eviscerated Shyvana where she stood. Thresh whipped and swung his weapon about, slashing into Kha'Zix's shell but doing no serious damage. The Chain Warden was no match for his opponent's wicked slashing.

The darkness of the night blanketed the vision of the remaining three champions. Damien and Jarvan were locked in swift combat, one trading blows to each other only to have then blocked or dodged. Even with the massive armor burdening him, Jarvan could quickly move across the battlefield and sidestep any swipe or strike. From a distance, Damien could see the figure of the Examplar charging toward him for one final strike. He pounced from the ground at an inhuman distance and held his peculiar lance high.

"DEMACIAAAA!" He shouted and smashed in front of Damien.

Walls of earth erected around him and formed a cage. A heavily gauntlet smashed into the jaw of Damien and sent him soaring and crashing into the earthen structure. Blood began to softly leak out of the corner of his mouth. _Shit… this is where it ends_, he thought. Jarvan thrust his lance forward and the angled blades extended from the metal staff and planted themselves into Damien's gut. Red gushed from the penetrated wound and stained the blades. He was lifted from the ground, swung over Jarvan's head, and slammed onto the ground parallel to his origin and all went black.

* * *

Jarvan's team walked out of the chamber with their heads held proudly. Zed looked too furious for words as everybody else slackened onto the benches. He paced about the stone floor, never looking up. Disappointment was flushed into Damien's head. It had been the first match he'd lost; and he never thought he'd really care about a single loss this much. The Summoners and the instructor were still in the room, reproachfully watching the losing team. Shyvana slunk her head down and stared at her knees, Thresh fiddled with his lantern, and Graves kept a smug look.

Zed stood by the exit for a moment, and then slammed his fist into the wall. A large smash echoed and a crack spread through the ancient stone.

"More practice." Was all he said before quietly, yet angrily, leaving the room.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Hey everyone, I'm sorry for the long update. I've been working slowly and blah blah, excuses excuses.

Hope you enjoy the chapter, and again, please leave your criticisms for me!

Thanks for reading and sticking with the story.


	6. Chapter 5 - Love in the Moon's Light

**Author's Note**

WARNING: There is explicit content ahead. Just a heads up, even though there is a rating on the story that should be followed.

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Love in the Moon's Light**

Damien, Graves, Shyvana, and Thresh all sat at a table isolated from the other champions and with Zed absent. Usually Zed would have showed up about half an hour before they began practice, but they were to leave soon and he hadn't shown his face. Apparently Zed's temper had not faltered. Graves leaned back and took a last drag on his cigarette before crushing it into an ashtray that occupied the spot next to the few plates that held the scraps of his breakfast.

"I'm just going to guess there's no practice today," Shyvana uneasily said.

"I ain't complainin'," Graves blissfully stared up at the ceiling. "I been hankerin' fer a day off."

"Knowing Zed he'll probably yell at us tomorrow for not practicing without him or something." Shyvana smiled.

Damien was examining the shining and smooth blade of his knife when a dark mass shadowed over him. He looked up, as well as the rest of his team, to the figure of Pantheon dressed in his casual clothing.

"Something you want?" Damien tiredly called.

He stood silent for a moment, but with an expression of hatred. Damien cocked an eyebrow at him.

"What do you want?" he repeated.

"Have you no heart? Are you not a man?" Pantheon asked.

"… What?" Damien looked astonished.

"What you've done and how you've treated Leona."

Damien hesitated and looked him sternly in the eye.

"Leona? What of her?" he asked.

"_Leona!_ You _know_ she has always loved you and still does! Does the time you've spent together mean anything to you? Have you no regard for her life or her heart?" Pantheon gave Damien a dumb expression of mock surprise.

"No."

Pantheon held a fierce expression.

"She aches for you! You were the perfect person for her! Or so she continuously steps on my heart and tells me every day! You, Damien, are a person that-"

"You will never be?" Damien interrupted.

The warrior looked stunned but couldn't deny it.

"How can you wake up every day knowing what you've done to someone whose always been there and desperately wants to be there still? Don't you love her at all?"

"Not anymore I don't."

Pantheon appeared to grow more furious. His eyes squinted and his body tensed. He waved his arm in a backhand motion.

"Bullshit! You can't just stop loving somebody! You either love them or you never did!" he argued.

Damien gave him a cold look and said, "Then I guess I never loved her."

Pantheon twitched as though he had been hit. Silence crawled over the small crowd. Shyvana, Graves, and Thresh were looking at each other in suspense. They didn't say anything, but _"Oh shit…"_ was about the sum of their thoughts that were shown in their faces.

Without a warning, Pantheon's fist swung down and Damien jumped from his seat. A loud smashing sound echoed through the Cantina as the chair was hit with Pantheon's fist and split into many pieces. Damien's back was against the wall. Pantheon gave a low growl and charged toward him. He twirled to his left just before his pursuer's hand had crashed into and cracked the stone foundation. Pantheon shook his hand loose of any joint locking from the pain and charged for the now-isolated Damien. He threw a punch, but Damien had vaulted over him to his backside. Frustration and fury was poisoning the warrior's temper.

"FIGHT ME!" he yelled. "YOU COWARD!" and ran for him again.

Pantheon blindly charged once more and landed a crushing fist into Damien's cheek. He fell back and held onto the table to support himself. Shyvana immediately bolted from her chair with a fierce expression, and Damien held a hand up to tell her to sit down.

"I don't have any business with you. I won't fight you."

Pantheon slackened an inch and let go of his temper.

"How does one such as yourself even live? How can you live with no feelings? Do you not care for the people you love? You're a heartless monster." He walked toward him, spat on the floor in his direction, and walked from the Cantina.

Damien wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his cloak. He had apparently bitten so hard on his tongue that he split the tissue when he was hit. He continued to taste blood for at least an hour. The other champions in the Cantina had stopped gawking at the scene and returned to their conversations. His teammates gave him apprehensive looks.

"If Zed actually decides to show up, tell him- ah, well, fuck it." Damien said before walking out of the Cantina.

He made himself at home at his comfortable glade in the gardens. There were so many like this one, but it held a special place in his heart. This, of course, was where he spent his first night with Diana. And hopefully he'd have another tonight; he expected a Full Moon. Here he could sit under the tree, watch the cool pond ripple from the creek's ruckus and the beautiful plants live in solace. But now he wasn't so peaceful. His mind was plagued with his analysis of his feelings. Was it true what Pantheon said? That he couldn't stop loving Leona if he had ever loved her at all? It brought his memory to when he first confessed his love to her.

It was a warm night, he remembered. They were on the coastline of the only lake near the mountain village, just young children at fifteen years old. The smell of fresh water and the dewing grass invigorated them and heightened their joy of life together. They sat barefooted by many bushes and listened to the small waves splish and splash from the actions of small fish and other lake creatures. Leona's head rested on his shoulder with their hands intertwined and her beautiful red hair laying across her and Damien's back. It just came out of him, he would later remark foolishly to himself. He blurted the three simple, almost insignificant words. At that point he hadn't cared whether or not she worshipped the Sun, Moon, or some other inanimate object. She giggled, blushed, kissed, and played with him before divulging into her own feelings; she had loved him too. He gave an embarrassed laugh before they went into their furious kissing sessions. And eventually it went further, and it was the first time they had made love. Damien fondly remembered this day and others as wonders in his life, as he had found his one true love. Of course, such memories would be torn apart barbarically upon the 'betrayal' of Leona and the coup de grace of his parents' assassination.

A part of him felt extreme guilt that wrenched his insides as he sat under the tree. He didn't mean the things he had said to Pantheon, and he truly did feel sorry for Leona. Even if he had no interest to be with her, a part of him still loved her. He hadn't just loved Leona. He _was_ Leona. Body, Mind, and Soul together. They were one and indivisible. But ripped apart from his hatred and misfortunes.

Ah, the Solari. The Solari… The Solari… It was and is the Solari's fault. Revenge has never been so close. Damien could feel it coming closer and closer. And did he even need influence, money, or power to serve justice? Did he really even need the League of Legends anymore? He had Diana. Two acolytes of the Moon with substantial control of its power and the relentless motivation of rage and vengeance. Nothing could stop them; perhaps not even the army of Mount Targon itself could hold a wall to their fury. And that's almost what this was: a war. But just how was he going to serve justice? Murder seemed to be the only solution. But who? Who exactly is to blame for the crimes against he and his new lover? Destroy the Sun, or everything the Solari holds dear. Yes…

_Soon it was coming._

Damien leaned his head back on the tree and felt the grass below him.

_Soon justice would be served._

The Sun was setting and the bright sky was turning navy blue. The Moon was barely visible and hardly lucid.

_Soon the Moon would show no mercy._

* * *

He sat under the tree for hours. Time went by quickly. He had hardly looked across the glade or noticed a particular flower when the Moon was shining bright and the sky pitch black around the specks of white stars. Crickets were croaking, birds were sleeping, the water was drifting slowly and soothingly. Small crunches in the grass were sounding and getting closer.

"Decided you'd wait for me here?" her beautiful voice inquired.

Damien whipped his neck upward and the hood of his cloak flapped and covered his right eye. He hastily stood up and brushed his hair and hood from his face. Diana was leaning against a tree nearby with her arms crossed under her breasts. Her silver hair extravagantly glimmered under the moonlight and enhanced her beautifully pale face. She pushed off of the tree and stepped towards him. Her soft hands pulled Damien's hood from his head and rested it on the back of his shoulders. Her arms slid under his and wrapped around him. She planted the side of her head on his left shoulder. He could feel her nose softly touching his neck. Heat choked his face and he felt like he was going to break a sweat as he mimicked her and placed his arms around her body.

"It has been too long since I've seen your beautiful face." He croaked through a dry throat.

Damien felt her nose lift away. She began seductively kissing the surface of his neck. Each touch electrified his senses from all over his body and made him shiver slightly. He would twitch and tingle each time her tongue would lightly graze his skin following her voluptuous lips. Damien was shaking with childish excitement as he slid his hand down her back and rested it on her butt. His dark pants had felt constricted due to the erection he had developed. She let out a small giggle and took his arm with her hand and pushed it off. She gave him a kiss on the lips and left the embrace.

"Don't get too excited." She teased.

Damien flashed a guilty smile and sat down by his tree. He didn't like her stopping; This had been his release from the stress of life in the League of Legends. There was too much to worry about: practice, matches, teams, his friends, his plans for the Solari, and his feelings regarding Leona. It could all be lifted and thrown out when his lips touched with Diana's. She had apparently disliked stopping, too, as she had followed Damien and plopped onto his lap. Damien heaved a sigh (of which Diana didn't seem to hear) as she had evidently crushed the elevation in his pants, making him shift his lower body to find a more comfortable pose.

Her thumbs found his forehead and began tracing something on it. Damien's eyes looked up to Diana's face which was contorted into a look of bliss. Where her thumbs had touched and moved on she left a small tingling sensation on his skin as though paint were on it. He lifted up his hands to feel it but Diana swiped it down and continued to "draw" on his forehead.

"What are you doing to me?" he questioned.

She didn't answer. Instead, she merely finished her art and gave a small kiss in the center of Damien's forehead.

"It's a gift." She answered at last.

Damien crossed his eyes trying to look at his forehead.

Diana giggled and said, "You won't be able to see it, silly."

She cradled his head and laid her face on top of it. She kept at it for a few minutes, and finally looked up at the sky.

"The Moon is so beautiful tonight…" she held a serious tone.

"Isn't it always?" Damien said sarcastically.

"It really reminds me of your eyes, Damien."

And for the first time in many years Damien had felt flattered. It was an alien sensation to him at this point. And he couldn't stop his face from burning. He dropped his gaze to the ground and didn't noticed Diana's face moving towards his. Their lips slowly and romantically connected and allowed their playful tongues to dance with each other. Diana's arms were wrapped above his shoulders. Damien's left hand was flat against Diana's back and his right was trailing up her ribcage and finding her breast. He slowly slid his palm over the peak and began to caress her. Desire had clearly overwhelmed Diana because she had been pushing Damien harder and harder against the tree to kiss him. It was beginning to hurt him, but he was ignoring it fairly easily in the heat of the moment. Her hips were moving back and forth against his, making his constricting pants a more comfortable place. Damien's hand had left her chest and moved down to her waist. The split second that it had made contact between her legs Diana accidentally let out a moan and began to quiver. Using his first two fingers, Damien began to slide them up and down the barrier of clothing that shielded her vagina. Diana had removed her lips from his and laid her head on his shoulder. She was uncontrollably shaking as Damien worked his hand under her. Embarrassment and pleasure had burned into her rouging face as her underwear was soaking from his touch. Her soft and uneven breaths were batting against Damien's neck.

Damien pulled his hand up to her waist and, along with his other hand, went under the end of her shirt. His palms traveled up her bare skin and her shirt was pushed up from his wrists and forearms. It went over her head and came off with Diana's help. Her silver hair fell onto her beautiful shoulders and shined. Damien gradually kissed from her lower waist up to her fleeting chest. Diana leaned downward and attacked Damien's mouth with her lips. Damien's hands were on her back; his fingers were lightly sliding up and down her soft, bare skin. Tingling goosebumps were rising on her body making her shiver in delight. Diana had found the knot of Damien's cloak around his neck with her hands and untied it quickly. He slid his arms from it and tossed it on the grass beside the tree. His black shirt was peeled off just as fast if not faster. Diana pressed her hands to his torso. He squirmed as the bark scratched against his bare back.

"_Gah!_" he gasped.

Diana apologized embarrassingly and removed herself from his lap to find a seat in the dampening grass. Damien lightly soothed the scrapes on his back with a hand and sat cross-legged by his lover. Not being close to him was something Diana couldn't endure for longer than a few seconds so she leaned forward to start another round of slow French-kissing. Her knees were planted in the grass and her palms resting on his knees. She was inching him closer and closer into the ground, causing him to support his body with his hands firmly placed on the grass which was slippery with dew. The pink halos of Diana's nipples were softly touching Damien's inclined chest as the two lovers continuously embraced each other's lips. A solitary finger lightly slipped down Damien's abdomen and very gently grazed the tip of his erection guarded with clothing. Something wet was present and magnified the sensation almost tenfold. He hitched in a large breath, tensed his muscles and pulled his waist away from her. Damien bit down on his lip and almost drew blood to stop himself from going over the edge. Massive embarrassment warmed his face and plugged his ears at the thought of coming so close with a simple touch. Diana was giggling wildly to Damien's never-ceasing blushing.

"Let's see how you like it." He childishly dared with a red tinge over his cheekbones.

He softly laid her down on the damp grass while she continued to giggle. Diana had ceased her laughing fit immediately as Damien's hand was placed between her thighs. She quivered desirably as the tips of his fingers brushed over the clothing that covered her clitoris. It was surprisingly damp to the touch.

"Wow…" Damien teased.

Diana huffed at him and squeezed her thighs shut after pushing his hand away.

"Fine, if you wish to be that way, I can just—" she threatened playfully but was instantly silenced when Damien placed a finger to her lips.

He placed his hands over the waistline of her clothing and gently pulled it from off of her legs. Damien held an abashed look of awe at the immense beauty that was Diana's bare body lying on the dark grass under the Moon itself, of which was nowhere near as extravagant as his lover. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the night as though she were an angel and her hair shimmered to complement its resplendence. He laid himself on top of her and lovingly combined their lips in harmonious pleasure. Damien's right hand was placed above her groin but gently made its way toward her vulva. Two seductive fingers slid up and down from her vagina to her clitoris. Diana's hips slowly moved up and down, following Damien's motions. Damien forced himself away from Diana and began to peel the last of his clothes off after slipping his boots from his feet. He resumed his position above Diana and they continued to kiss as their skin made contact.

"Damien… I… haven't ever done this before…" she embarrassingly admitted.

"Don't worry, my love." He gave her a gentle kiss and entered her.

To surmise it in their personal words, the love they had made was slow, quiet, romantic and absolutely perfect. The nerves in their bodies seemed to grow twice as sensitive as Damien had slid in and out of his lover. Their deep kissing and soft touching became more pleasurable every second. They were entwined and interwoven as one. As the first few minutes passed that felt like blissful hours, Diana's waist and hips were beginning to convulse. She couldn't stop herself from letting out soft moans as every part of her sexual tension was being released and stimulated. Hardly a minute later, her entire body tensed up and her vagina tightened and contracted. She let out a stifled cry and her thighs began to quiver uncontrollably as she reached her peak. Her sexy cries and irresistible moaning brought the familiar tensing in Damien's lower body. He slowed to a stop and gently pulled himself out of her. The tip of his erection slid along the lubricated walls of his lover's vagina without friction and stimulated the most sensitive part of him. He bit miraculously hard on his arm as to stop himself from going over the edge once more. A small breakage in his skin oozed a few droplets of blood onto his tongue as he regained control of his nerves. Diana's breathing was uneven and caused her breasts to rise and fall sharply. She looked into Damien's eyes with an expression of rapture and disliked the fact that his lips weren't dancing with hers. She leaned forward to commence it. He gladly accepted her invitation and had also slid his penis back into her. A few more soft pushes and he had to stop himself again.

"Don't stop…" she had almost inaudibly whispered. She caught herself saying it towards the end of her sentence and blushed profusely.

He began to slowly grind his teeth as he recommenced his romantic thrusts. It was beginning to feel too amazing; it was impossible to carry on any further. Diana's body began to convulse more fiercely than before as she was beginning to reach a second climax. Damien steeled himself. Another few minutes of immense pleasure before Diana's moans were getting louder and her vagina beginning to constrict and contract once more. Damien had stopped himself once again while inside of her, but she was continuing to follow his previous thrusting motions causing his muscles to reach a tension that signaled his orgasm. He gasped wildly in unison with Diana as she had tensed herself even further. For nearly ten seconds all of their tensions had released and they felt connected as one in a world of never-ceasing pleasure. Damien was panting quietly as he slowly pulled himself out of her one last time and laid himself next to the only true love in his life. Without any words, they lightly held onto each other and slowly French-kissed for nearly an hour.

Diana had finally taken herself from her lover and said timidly, "I love you,… Damien."

"If I could so choose, I would stay here and keep myself wrapped in your heavenly arms until I wasted away. You are a much more beautiful woman than a small man like I could ever hope to have affection from. There is not a second in my life where my mind is absent of your gorgeous face or perfect features. I could disown the Moon itself, for its beauty could not compare to yours. You are my Moon, Diana. There is no possible way I couldn't love you back. It will burn forever in me, and only a love of your own could stop it from consuming me." Damien recited without taking his gaze from the beautiful silver eyes that dazzled in front of him.

Diana held a stunned and flattered expression, but was lost for words. She rested her head on Damien's chest who rocked her back and forth until they both fell asleep in each other's loving embrace.

* * *

"I found 'im." Graves called in his drawl.

Damien was still half-asleep. He could only see the dark red that was the inside of his eyelids and the sounds of water running or birds chirping came from miles away. He was roused awake with a nudge from Graves's booted foot.

"Git up." Graves commanded.

"Over this way, Thresh." Shyvana was walking towards their direction. When she crossed over into view, though, she gasped. She covered her profusely blushing face and stepped back behind the trees. Damien still had no clothes on.

"UP!" Graves yelled and delivered a steel-toed kick to Damien's tailbone.

"AH! FUCK!" Damien yelled from his sleepy stupor.

He sat up and looked around. It must have been noon as the brightness was clawing at his eyes.

"We're goin' to skip practice today. Courtesies to me for the idea," Graves placed an open palm on his chest in feigned pride, "and ya'd better come with us if ya don' want Zed to find ya and chew ya out good. So git decent, a'right?" He walked away from Damien in Shyvana and Thresh's direction.

Damien grabbed his stray pants and shirt from the grass and stared into the pond as he dressed. A familiar mark was tattooed onto his forehead: a white circle with a large crescent under it. It was a the same symbol that glistened on Diana's forehead. He ran a thumb over it, but only felt regular skin. It tingled momentarily as he dropped his hand to his side and reached for his cloak. Once it was tied over his lower neck, he headed in Graves's direction and followed his companions.

Graves led the team out of the Institute's grounds and into a large city nearby. The sight reminded Damien of his life as a hired assassin. Living in poverty in a big city and seeing the hundreds of people walk in the streets and plazas with no cares in their lives. Or that's how it had seemed to him; he was young and ignorant. Some people gawked at and gave cold stares to Damien as he passed them. He figured nobody in the city would respect somebody who was always cloaked; in the town he used to work in it was an unofficial announcement that the person was willing to kill for money. Damien wondered if that tradition was held in more places than just one.

They traversed one of the few plazas and entered a laidback diner. A few groups of people were enjoying drinks and chatting quietly in their corners as the team found a table to sit at. Damien, Shyvana, and Graves ate a brunch and Thresh sat. Their conversations consisted mostly of Graves's tales being a convict in prison, his great escapes from the law, and graphic stories of his love life as a young and lustful lad. While Damien could see most of them were exaggerated, he couldn't help but be entertained. Something hilarious always seemed to happen in his stories that would keep the storyteller's audience laughing. About an hour after their arrival, the owner told them they need not pay as it was a privilege to have champions in his eatery. Graves dropped his voice and muttered to Damien that he hadn't planned on paying anyway and the group left.

After crossing through many bazaars, Damien's eye was caught by a knife held in a small selection of other blades. He broke from the group and went to inspect it. The blade was a casual shape, but the ornate hilt was shining silver with grey moonstones engraved all over. It was only fifty or so degrees outside, but the knife was freezing to the touch. The salesman noticed his interest and shambled over to him. He was big but old. One of his eyes was covered with a black eye patch that contrasted with his snow-white hair.

"'Tis an oddity, eh? I don' think I've ever seen a knoife loike tha' one in my loife." The old man commented.

Damien lifted his face from the shadows and looked at the man responsible for the voice. The salesman caught a glimpse of the mark on his forehead and held gaped.

"Turn tha blade ovah, young man. Yeh should see somefin' interstin'." He inquired.

Damien obeyed and turned it over. At the bottom of the blade just before it turned into the hilt was a small engraving of the same mark that was imprinted on his and Diana's face. He placed the knife back on the shelf of the bazaar.

"Sorry. I have no money."

"Nonsense. I know when a man needs a product o' moine. Yeh'll take it of no charge. Soun' good to yeh?" the old man slapped the knife into Damien's palm and smiled graciously.

"I-I don't know what to say, really." Damien replied.

"Ahhh, don' worry 'bout it. Not a soul 'ud wanna buy a trinket loike tha' anyway."

The old man shambled behind the bazaar and pulled a black and silver sheath for the knife. He took the knife from Damien's hand and neatly slid the blade into it. He gave it back and shooed him away. Damien was running the surface of his fingers over the smooth and silky casing of the sheath when he caught up with his companions who were evidently waiting for him near a large and sparkling fountain that housed a large, bronze statue of a scholar which gushed crystal clear water that glistened in the Sun.

"What's that you got there?" Shyvana asked curiously.

"It's- Well, a knife." Damien said.

"Why do you have a knife?" she replied.

"We ain't here to go shoppin'," Graves said.

"I didn't necessarily shop. I was looking at it and the guy just… gave it to me." He was still admiring the sheath's smooth, black surface with shining silver trims in ornate designs.

"Hello?" Shyvana waved in his direction.

"Nothin' free is ever any good. Wouldn't be surprised if it crack't in a day er two." Graves said.

"Okay, seriously? Is nobody else curious about this guy? He's asleep and _naked_ in the gardens, has some rune on his face, and sneaks off to get knives from stores. Am I the only one who's wondering here?" Shyvana blurted.

"Good point. Why were you sleeping in the gardens with your clothes by the pond?" Thresh mused.

"Can't a guy be natural for one day?" he let out a guilty laugh and shifted his eyes away from his companions.

"C'mon! We're dying to know!" Shyvana sat on the edge of the fountain and implored him.

"Smart people gotta leave other men to their business, ya yuppies." Graves threatened. "Let him alone. If he wants to strip and dance in the woods, I ain't givin' a damn. It's his business."

Shyvana glared at him.

"That's exactly what I was doing. I love dancing. In the gardens. Naked." He was unable to contain his humor.

Shyvana's eyes bored into him. "Fine. Can you at least explain what that…" (she waved her arm in the direction of his forehead) "that-_thing_ is?"

"The Moon." He simply lied. He honestly had zero knowledge of what it was exactly.

She wasn't satisfied with any of his answers, but Shyvana gave up the investigation anyway. She jumped from the fountain and they began to walk once more through the city to find something to occupy them for another few hours before they would head back to the Institute. As they walked, Damien kept fiddling with the sheath in the pocket of his cloak. An odd feeling like déjà vu or nostalgia followed the cool touch on the casing. There was something about the dagger that was indescribable, an odd feeling.

"Hey, Graves. Did Zed ever show up yesterday?" he asked quietly.

"Yep. Chewed us out damn good, I'd say. O' course, I blocked it out. Ya get good at those kinda things when ya do it all the time. He hadn't showed up for practice, but he still yelled at us for not doin' it in his absence. So I figured we'd just leave today and stick that in his britches." Graves replied.

"He didn't even notice you were gone." Shyvana added.

"Well that's good, I suppose…" Damien stared off into space.

It was silent during the few more minutes they walked.

"Ain't nothin' much to do here durin' the day." Graves informed. "Usually there's a bar or two that'd really take ya out, but they don' get wild till the Sun sets."

They all agreed to get drinks anyway and Graves led them into a small bar he frequented when he visited the city. It was warm and homey, but held a peculiar stench. It was bustling with visitors this afternoon and many of them lifted their heads when the party entered the doors and the bell sounded. Plenty of conversations deafened the four of them. They found their seats in a small booth by the long, pane window on the side of the building. The waitress took their orders: the strongest (and cheapest) drink for Graves, some sort of exotic drink for Shyvana, and plain tea for Damien and Thresh. He didn't feel like drinking any alcohol.

"Tell us more _greatly exaggerated_ stories of your probably non-existent sex life," Shyvana inquired Graves.

He took a rough gulp of the dark liquid that could burn the throat and snorted, "I'd rather hear about yours."

The trademark grin of Thresh had once again spread across his face. It was infectious, and soon Damien was smiling too. Shyvana, however, had a red face either from fury or embarrassment or more likely both. Graves had an arm resting on the top of the booth's back and the other gripping a medium cup of which was almost empty of its cheap liquor.

"We're waitin', princess." Graves teased.

She whispered something and her face grew a deeper red that was almost purple.

"Speak up, dollface." Graves kept at it.

She whispered a little louder but with the noise from the bar it was impossible to hear.

Damien put a hand dramatically to his ear and said, "What was that?"

"Jarvan…" she covered her face with her hands.

"_Him_?" Graves was astonished.

With her face still covered she slowly nodded.

"Who was on top?" Graves asked and was slapped across the face so hard the whole bar could hear it, but frequent misdemeanors to any females resulting in slaps happened so often that nobody craned their neck to see where it came from.

Damien couldn't stop himself from laughing, and Thresh sat there with his grin. He didn't think Shyvana's face could burn any deeper shade, but it apparently had when she removed her hands from her face to hit Graves and to take a sip from her colorful drink.

"Did you ever get excited and turn into a dragon?" Damien blurted out.

He was slapped immediately as Graves almost dropped his glass to the table and began snorting.

"Ya think maybe he would'a liked that?" Graves added to Damien who was rubbing a red mass on his cheek.

She doled out the physical abuse with a furious hand and massively embarrassed face as the two rascals enjoyed their laughs.

They finished their drinks, Graves had somehow convinced Shyvana to pay for his drink, and she eventually decided to pay for everyone's. As the Sun was setting, they left the plaza and the city. On their journey back to the Institute of War, Damien's hand continuously caressed the cool and smooth surface of his new knife's beautifully crafted casing.

Each champion went their separate ways: Graves to the Cantina to grab more drinks, Shyvana to her bed, Thresh also to the Cantina, and Damien to the gardens where he told Shyvana he would continue dancing naked. His companions entered the Great Hall and Damien waited outside. After a few minutes, he stepped into the Hall and into the direction of his room; the need to urinate was beginning to ache in his groin. In the same hall he found his former love and Pantheon talking, he bumped into Leona by accident.

"Damien!" she said in surprise, but a look of sorrow was hidden in her pupils. "How have you-" she paused and eyed the symbol on Damien's forehead.

"Great." He answered unenthusiastically. Something was tugging at the inside of his chest. His stomach was sinking. "And you?"

"Just… just fine." Her eyes dropped to the floor.

"Wonderful. But listen, I've got to head to my room. So if you don't mind…" he tried to excuse himself. A small whimper was in his voice.

"Oh… right, yeah, sorry to have kept you. Have a good night, Damien." She sounded absolutely desperate to him and it magnified the pains in his heart.

She left without hearing him bid her a wonderful evening, too. He walked off the anxiety towards his room and rushed to his bathroom.

Damien sat under the lonesome tree in the middle of the large and open clearing when the Moon was high and bright. An odd but blissful feeling was spreading over him. He laid his head on the bark of the tree and tried to examine this feeling. It was the same feeling of déjà vu or nostalgia that he experience earlier, a feeling like something big was going to happen and he was going to be a part of it. He fell asleep under the tree with his hand tightly gripped around his knife.

* * *

Zed didn't hold any familiar temper with his teammates the next day. He seemed reasonably good natured and was optimistic in their practice. Not even Graves's disregard for directions or advice caused him to raise his voice or his fist. The training went well, and they finished for the night. Angry rumbles in Damien's stomach beckoned for supper when he stepped into the Cantina. It would definitely feel great to rest; he hadn't practiced in a few days so it wore down his muscles rather easily. There was a slam on a table coming from a shaded booth from far away and a call for his name.

"Damien! Over here!" the familiar, booming voice of Rengar could be heard amongst the chatter of almost every champion in the League.

Sitting next to the hunter was Draven with the necklace lined with bones and feral teeth draped over his shoulders and over his regal shirt. Damien grinned and approached to sit with them.

Draven held out his hand, "It's been too long, my man! How did you get by without spending at least one day with Draven?"

Damien clapped his hand into his and shook it vigorously.

"Oh, you know… I just dream about you a lot." He smiled.

"You wouldn't be the first. The wonderful ladies in my newest team can't keep their hands off of me!"

Rengar laughed. "Now that's a laugh. I'd wager it's actually you grabbing all over _them_."

"Is that bad?" he said in mock innocence. "I can't help that they're so… _beautiful_."

"Ooooh, that's an alien word coming from a mouth such as Draven's." Damien looked at Rengar.

"What color are their eyes?" Rengar asked.

"I can't tell you the color of their eyes. But I can definitely tell you their bust sizes."

Rengar and Damien held onto the table to support themselves from falling to the floor in hysterics. They all went to get drinks together and were starting their night of merriment and mirth. They drank heavily, Damien of course drinking the least and Rengar emptying boatloads of alcohol seemingly every minute, and were soon embarrassing themselves with vulgar stories (told fairly loudly) and unskillful dancing. Empty mugs were not only strewn across the table, but some were rolling on the ground with drops of drink seeping from the rims. It was nearing midnight meaning the whole of the Cantina was almost packed with champions at the same magnitude of intoxication. Such events were usually common on a Friday night.

"You-You know, Damien," Draven said in a drunken drawl, "I don't think you ever hic-told us why you have that mark on your face. Hic-Is that supposed to be your virgin symbol?"

Rengar laughed obnoxiously loud. Draven eyed him suspiciously.

"I don't hic-think you ever told us anything about _your_ 'personal' life, Rengar," Draven accused him stupidly.

Rengar looked down at his cup embarrassed. "Well I-uhh…"

"Don't tell us you're a hic-_virgin_?" Damien's head was swimming.

"Oh, no no no! I've done it before, just… it was really long ago." He said truthfully. His face was burning either from embarrassment or the alcohol.

Damien swayed in his chair.

"You know… Nidalee over there," Draven pointed clumsily over to a table far away where a tanned and tribal woman sat with her friends, "has hic-had her eye on you for a while. And I hear she likes things _wild_."

Rengar looked over at her and covered his face with his paws.

"You don't… hic-you don't think she actually… _likes_ me, do you?" he asked sheepishly.

"Oh, stop being a little pussycat and hic-go for it." Damien clapped a drunken hand on his shoulder.

Rengar gave a nervous look at his friends and, with great difficulty, stood from his chair. He idled past other champions with erratic stepping patterns. The world was swimming in his eyes. He stood at the special table where she sat with her friends. A rising need to vomit leaped into his throat. The most beautiful woman in the world looked at him in great surprise and a small tinge of rouge lit up in her face. Her friends tittered and giggled as Rengar stood dumbly by her side.

"I… uh…" he held a paw on his stomach.

"Sure!" she immediately answered before he could finish his sentence.

Rengar couldn't look her in the eye but held out his paw. She took it and stood from her chair. He placed one hand over her butt and lifted her from the ground. Nidalee cried out in surprise before she realized he was carrying her and fell into a lull of affection towards her captor. Her half-intoxicated self swooned in her fancied partner's arms. Her bronzed skin was softly kissed with moisture from the humidity of the Cantina's packed nature. She couldn't believe Rengar was finally doing something; she had wanted this for almost a month since she had seen him play a great match and watched him longingly in his rabble-rousing Cantina visits. As they left the Cantina together, Draven had an ecstatic smile on his face and emptied cup in his hand.

"Warms my heart to see him happy, y'know? Yeah, yeah… surprise, surprise. Draven feels emotion after hic-all…" he said.

"Oh c'mon now, you're a decent human being!" Damien battled in his inebriated handicap.

"Ah, shut up, Damien…" Draven laid his head on his outstretched arm.

He lifted his head up to drink from his empty cup, and went on thinking he actually swallowed something. Damien sobered a little. A small form a pity showed itself in his heart. Now was his chance.

"What happened to you and your brother?" the question would finally be answered.

Draven gave him an indignant look, but his muscles slackened and he robotically recited, "It's… a little hard to explain."

"I've got all the time to make it out."

He seemed reassured. A little bit too easy, thought Damien. But then again… he _was_ drunk.

"My father was a war hero and a politician for hic-Noxus. My mother… well she died giving birth to me. Father loved her very much; I could tell because it was in his eyes every time he looked at me. Darius… he, too, was heartbroken. He was only five but he understood death as much as you or I do now.

"Eventually my father stopped looking at me, stopped having anything to do with me. I was being raised by the nannies and his spite. Darius was always so focused on training and learning. Consistently I'd try to distract him just so we could play together or prank some of the adults across the street. He would look at me like a bug. A damn insect that disgusted him. I never forgot that.

"I remember purposefully getting in trouble. Just so Father would look at me again. I just wanted him to look at me like I was his son and not the mortality of his wife. I smashed a neighbor's window and when Father was told, he finally looked at me.

"I saw a look on his face that was worse than anything I could imagine. There was immense sorrow in his eyes like I was more of a scourge than the death of Mother. That I was also a demon child that would bring down the name of our family. He didn't even discipline me. He didn't even speak to me. 'Get him out of here' was all the bastard could fucking say to my credit and with that I was escorted to my room by probably the only person (a nanny) who treated me like a human being. Father died not four days afterwards.

"My brother tried his hardest to keep us alive. It's obvious now that he had still loved the ruffian of a brother that he had, but at that point I was still bitter. After hard years on the streets of Noxus, Darius and I went into a military school. He was sent into the higher classes when he finished, and I executed criminals. The filth of our glorious nation died running with my trademarked axes in their spines. The crowds cheered and jeered and I bowed and grinned. It felt wonderful to have so much people care about you, or at least give the illusion that they did. Of course, none of them really cared about _me_. They loved me, the shows I put on, but not _me_, you understand? They loved the Glorious Executioner, but not Draven, brother of Darius.

"Darius had become another pawn in the army of Noxus. It was here that he became a legend in our nation when he decapitated his commanding officer and lead our fiercely outnumbered troops into victory against Demacia. My dear brother had become greater than my father ever was with one sweep of his axe and the command of one fist. He was the peoples' hope of the nation, and I was their escape from the traumas of war. Darius left his position as a politician on the council of Noxus and joined the League of Legends to the surprise of many. I followed him about a week after. Right now I can hardly remember if it's because of the fame getting to my head or my need to be a rival to my blood."

Damien looked at the sorrowful young man sitting stupidly drunk in front of him. His eyes were lost in space but they looked sober. Damien's head was clearing from the alcohol's influence miraculously. Something was tugging at his emotions. This was a side of Draven he had never seen before.

"If I could do it, Damien… I'd wish it were different. If I could, I'd make it so Mother never died. So she would love me. So Father would tell me he loved me… So," he sniffled quietly and hoped inside that Damien didn't hear it, "Darius could be happy."

Draven laid his head down and fell asleep. His calm snoring was audible even over the Cantina's rabble. Something pinched the nerves under Damien's eyeballs and a trickle of salty water slipped from one of his eyes. He hastily stood up and furiously wiped his eyes on his cloak's sleeve. Damien found his familiar booth and sat in the shade. He sighed heavily.

"Oh fuck…" he whispered to himself. "I really need more to drink."

Approximately an hour later when Damien was inebriated once more, the Cantina was practically empty. The drunken travelers found their way to their apartments and fainted on their beds. The remaining few were either passed out on the tables or calmly talking to each other in inaudible voices. Damien looked to Draven who was still asleep with his head on his arm. A bulky figure walked up to him. It highly resembled his brother Darius, but the blur of Damien's intoxicated vision could hardly decide for sure. The man rested a hand on his younger brother's shoulder and gave a small shake. Darius softly removed the empty cup from Draven's clenched grip and set it at the table's edge. One muscular arm wrapped around Draven's body and hoisted him from his chair. Draven's arms hung over Darius's back as he was pulled onto his brother's shoulder. Darius gave one last look around the Cantina, causing Damien to hide his face under his hood, before walking out with his beloved brother in his arm.


	7. Chapter 6 - Eclipse

**Chapter 6 – Eclipse**

"Oh my god, this headache is killing me…" Damien complained as he laid his head onto the table early in the morning.

"Welcome to my world, son." Graves's head was also resting on the tabletop with his hands in his scruffy hair.

"It _is_ your fault, though." Shyvana said in a motherly tone that almost sounded like she was scolding them. "You continuously insist on drinking until you're blind every night!"

"Spare me the lecture, sweetie." Graves sighed heavily.

Shyvana looked at him with a hint of scorn in her eyes. Thresh sat in his chair quietly and mused at the empty space in the Cantina. It was fairly early even for practice. Not a single soul was present outside of the table he sat in. Even the bar was empty of a keeper and the kitchen held no cooks. Zed came back into the Cantina after leaving them for a few minutes.

"Greetings." He said without courtesy.

"Why ain't we able to just sleep this one?" Graves inquired.

Zed stared for a second and replied, "Because you need practice. Our preliminary is next week. We have another match today and if you fuck up anymore we're out of the tournament. You've 'slept' enough of your practices."

Graves was quiet.

"Up, everyone. Let's begin, please." Zed commanded and everybody stood immediately excluding Graves who remained for a minute longer before heaving an annoyed sigh and following his companions.

What felt like a lifetime was spent practicing formations, fighting techniques, and general strategies. Despite the hangover, Damien felt relieved that something was taking his mind off of the throbbing in his head. Graves had improved rather quickly. Damien suspected it was his history of frequent drinking that helped him cope with the pain. Eventually Graves felt great enough to continue his teasing of Shyvana's choice in bed partners. Their constant bickering kept the monotonous training entertaining for everybody else. Even Zed couldn't help but laugh a few times and screw up his techniques when Shyvana's angry yells at Graves's goading turned into ferocious dragon-like roars.

After a few hours, the Sun was reaching its zenith in the sky. Each champion was out of breath and longing for rest. Confidence was flowing through their veins alongside their heated blood. The captain dismissed his team.

"Rest and take your lunch. Be back here in two hours. Our match starts at six. Let's go." And they left for the Cantina.

In the welcoming café Damien picked out his food from the selection nearby the bar and found a seat in his comfortable booth. He wolfed down the different kinds of meats he had taken and hydrated himself with almost a gallon of only water. The Cantina itself was bustling with other champions at this hour. Most of them were returning from practice sessions and the others were either not training that day or taking the month off. He thought for a moment. There were plenty of champions he'd seen before that never came into the Cantina. Diana and Kha'Zix to name a few. But the Voidreaver was a little… _alien_. That was the only word Damien could use to describe him. But Diana was a perfectly normal human being. She liked solidarity, but then again so did Damien. Why did she never come here? There were probably also other champions that Damien had no idea of. Perhaps other creatures more attune to Kha'Zix's image. Or other champions who enjoyed being alone. The thought intrigued him. The League of Legends still held mysteries that he hadn't solved yet. He pushed his empty plates aside and eased his back against the cushioned seat in the booth.

Across the Cantina sat Leona in her shining armor. Sitting with her was Pantheon with his gladiatorial armor looking rustic and bland compared to Leona's, a young woman in slim clothing with an eagle-like bird perched on her shoulder, and a winged woman in valiant garments. The table next to them was occupied with Shyvana, Graves, Thresh, and Zed. A little ways away was a table that housed Draven who looked in glum spirits. He was sitting around four women who were chatting incessantly while their only male teammate sat with his chin rested on his palm. Did he remember everything he said last night? Or was it just always on his mind? Rengar was nowhere to be found. Damien spied Katarina sitting at a table next to a cloaked man who kept his hood up. The back of his cloak had special ends that looked to be blades themselves. Twitch was probably in here somewhere, but he could hide himself well considering the nature of his skills and the size of his body.

Damien sighed tiredly. Soon he would need to walk out of the room and head back into practice. Not only that, but he had to also nearly kill himself trying to win his next match. He stuffed his hand into his cloak pocket and brushed the tips of his fingers along the smooth surface of his knife's casing.

_What exactly is with this ornate blade?_ he thought to himself. The odd déjà vu feeling was creeping into him once more. _Well… it _is_ a beautiful weapon…_

Damien was disappointed to leave the effervescence and welcoming cheer of the Cantina as he followed his team into the Great Hall and towards the Summoning chambers nearby the practice rooms. His conscience screamed at him to stop moving and escape to his bed in his apartment. The uneasy looks on his teammates' faces proved they were experiencing the same thing. Zed nonchalantly walked in front of them and lead them into the dark chamber where the Summoners were lined, hoods covering their faces that stared to the floor. The instructor stood in front of them, and across the room were the opponents Damien would need to compete against to win.

"Good, you are here." The instructor said as Zed entered and sat on the bench closest to the corridor. "We shall begin in a few minutes, champions."

Zed used his short time wisely and went over general strategies with his team. It seemed he had not much time to talk before the Summoners' enchanting whispers ceased all at once and the instructor cleared his throat.

"Will the captain, Warwick, the Blood Hunter, please step forward first, please?"

A monster of wolf and man standing of about six and a half feet sniffed and snorted at the air. Its claws were like pocket knives jutting from its fur hands. The eyes shined the color of blood as they moved about and scanned the enemies. Just before its paw took the hand of its Summoner, the pinpoint sharp teeth in its maw were bared.

"Malzahar, the Prophet of the Void."

From the other side of the room sat a dark-skinned man wrapped in splendid purple garments in a desert style. He levitated from his seat and floated towards his Summoner, two ends of his wide scarf trailing behind him while his hood coolly flapping above his swaying, black hair. His eyes were a color that was almost purple, definitely alien to this world. A writhing miasma slithered around his hands, reminding Damien of the aura of a familiar enemy he had faced before, Kha'Zix.

"Syndra, the Dark Sovereign."

Another levitator, this time female, made her way towards her Summoner. Her clothes too were purple but of an Ionian style. Spheres of massive energy revolved and orbited her suspended body. She wore an extravagant headdress that arched over the top of her silver hair.

"Soraka, the Starchild."

This woman was an absolute oddity to Damien. She seemed humanoid (although her skin was a pale purple) but atop her forehead was a golden horn. Her large eyes gleamed just as yellow. A scepter that shined gold was shaped in an odd crescent form. She gracefully stepped towards her Summoner using the scepter as a walking-stick.

"Will the next captain, Zed, the Master of Shadows, please step forward?"

Zed began his travel towards the Summoner, but stopped when Damien tapped his shoulder.

"What gives? That was only four champions." He whispered.

"Cho'Gath, the Terror of the Void. He's… well, it's extremely dangerous for him to be let out of the Institute's custody. He will be Summoned specially. Be careful, Damien. He truly is a monster." Zed warned him and continued his travel.

The rest of Zed's team was called, and they all felt their breathing halt before appearing in the fountain on Summoner's Rift.

* * *

Damien leaned against a tree under the shade of its leafy roof in the lane he would be controlling. Zed would still be roaming. Graves and Shyvana would be sharing a lane; this was a notion Damien had a hard time understanding. Did Zed assign it himself? That seemed the most likely. But Zed had not said anything to his teammates that caught Damien's attention. And such an idea would have certainly intrigued him. Thresh was more than eager to have a lane of his own.

"Delightful… I will finally enjoy a chance at slow torture." His shrill voice mused as he left the fountain just minutes ago.

It was quiet as Damien leaned against the tree. A few birds could be heard singing in the distance among the thick advance of other trees. The small armies of warriors were following the path down the lane, but had not collided with the other platoon yet. The Sun was going to set soon, perhaps in the next hour. A twilight was darkening the sky up above.

Tens of yards over, the silhouette of his laning opponent straggled into view. It was an odd sight; it appeared to be running on all fours in a feral body formation. The shadow was accelerating at an inhuman pace. As it got closer and closer, wild snorting and growling could be heard. Damien stood from the tree and pulled his crescent-bladed knife from the small latch on his sash. Darkness was spreading faster and the Sun was out of view within ten minutes. The wild shadow was a few meters away from Damien just before it launched itself from the ground and pounced for its victim. Damien had only a few seconds to react. He dropped to the ground and rolled from the shade's point of impact. A loud smash reverberated as well as a snapping sound when it hit, and the tree's trunk cracked. Damien looked up to his opponent.

Warwick snarled in the young man's direction. His hunger for blood had been rising and taking control of his conscience. He sniffed and snorted and twitched his muzzle as the voices in his head warred with one another. One side pleaded Warwick to focus on the match. The other half vigorously told him to rip his opponent's throat out and drink as much blood that could drip from it. He gave a low howl and posed himself for attack.

Damien jumped from his place on the ground and held his knife at the ready. He watched confusedly as Warwick stood with his wild sniffing and held his clawed hands over his furious head. Warwick shook his head undecidedly. Finally, the beast chose which voice he would follow and let out another low howl. The wolf was set loose.

Thresh stood as still as a statue behind his minions. Across the lane were the two levitators, Malzahar and Syndra. In the night under the dark sky, Syndra was almost invisible save for the glowing spheres that orbited her. Malzahar emanated the strange phenomenon that Thresh knew was the Void itself slithering on a world where it was unwelcome.

_"This is going to get a little hectic if I don't get any help immediately."_ Thresh called to Zed.

_"On my way."_

The skeletal specter ran a bony and caressing hand down the chain that was wrapped around him. _Yes…_ he thought. _Let's show these ones some _real_ torture._

"So why did you ask Zed to have us lane together?" Shyvana questioned Graves as they nonchalantly walked down the lane towards their first tower approximately one minute before the minions had spawned.

Graves hesitated and thought for a second. "Ya ever been around that Thresh weirdo alone?"

"No… I can't say I have." she replied. "But what does that have to do with this?"

"Take the hint, ya idiot." Graves looked irritated. "That guy's a complete wacko. Talks abou' torture 'n' always mutterin' to himself."

"Oh, he can't be _that_ bad."

"Keep yourself ready…" Graves commanded as they stepped into the lane past their turret.

Quiet spread across the plain. They were far from the small skirmish between the soldiers so their sword clashing and shield bashing was muted. For nearly a moment longer the only thing they could hear were their hearts beating. A low rumble shook the earth. After a second, another low rumble sounded. More rumbles echoed through the lane. It took a minute or two for the Outlaw and the Half Dragon to realize these tremors were footsteps of some other-worldly monster.

The treetops shook vehemently and the creature stepped into view. It was approximately twelve feet tall and grotesque in form. Yellowed talons and horns protruded from the joints under his deep, purple skin. A large collection of razor sharp teeth lined up in the maw of the Chthonic behemoth. Its limbs appeared to be normal in form, but sick and twisted in nature. The monster-like appendages paled in comparison to the horrific visage of the beast. The very view of this creature brought a fear that felt like icy water flushing down the nerves of the brain. Yellow and malicious eyes scouted the field. The monster let out a screech that could make the ears bleed. The sound faded in and out of audibility as though it were coming from another realm.

Standing beside Cho'Gath was the cosmic figure of Soraka who seemed to be a dwarf in the presence of her laning partner. She held her staff out with the crescent-and-star apex glimmering even in the dark of dusk. It sparkled as she brandished and swung it boastfully. She stamped one of her hooves to the ground and the apex twinkled.

"That biggun's gonna be trouble. But I'll be damned if we don' rip that goat apart in seconds." Graves said haughtily.

Shyvana prepared herself and the two of them charged toward their opponents.

Warwick's outstretched arm that ended in an array of vorpal claws barely missed Damien's neck as the beast launched itself from the tree. Damien tried to keep his balance after pushing himself out of harm's way, but tumbled back onto the grass. Vigorous ripping noises sounded as Warwick clawed continually at the ground after Damien rolled out of his grasp. Damien gripped the blade of his knife, quickly gained his stature, and went in to attack.

He swiped downward towards Warwick's furred shoulder, but the razors of the wolf's hands sliced at his and sent his knife bulleting into the darkness. Deep cuts oozed fresh and warm blood near his wrist. As soon as a rich drop plummeted onto the grass, Damien heard a deep sniff. And then the wolf froze. A moment later, it took a deep inhale through its snout.

_Blood…_ Warwick thought to himself. _Blood…_

The voices in his head drowned out. His ears became full of an eerie whistle. The amazing and blissful stench slowly traveled in the air and entered the beast's nose. Something snapped in him. The whistling grew louder. It began to hurt. Hurt so much.

_Make it stop, make it stop...!_ he begged in his head.

His claws covered his ears and he shook his head violently. The grizzled mouth of the wolf slowly drew back to a monstrous grin and the rows of razor-teeth displayed themselves to the world. Louder and louder his ears rang. They pounded on the inside of his head and crippled his nerves. A soothing voice began to whisper to him despite the ringing. It was sweet, but something malicious was behind it.

_Only blood can make it stop…_ he thought. _Only blood! Blood!_

Damien flicked his wrist and began sucking on his wounds whilst cursing under his breath.

"Blood!" Warwick yelled.

He snarled.

"_Blood!_"

His sniffing increased tenfold. It seemed eager this time around.

"_BLOOD!_" He half screamed and half howled.

The beast recklessly threw himself at Damien and demanded his throat. He would have it. He had to. It would make the pain go away… but it also tasted so good and would satiate the hunger eating at his insides. There was no more sense or reason in him. He recklessly swung and clawed at the air trying to hit his opponent. Each time he narrowly missed and tried once more immediately. His attacks were uncoordinated as well as his movement unpredictable to Damien. Dodging the beast was becoming too much of a burden and it began to gnaw at his muscles. The young man fell do his knees and held his arms up to block whatever attack was coming with his dagger in one hand.

Numerous swipes cut and gashed his wrists. Blood was taking flight in the air and spattering to the ground quickly and silently. The pain was intense, but a more torturous feeling of being drained taxed Damien's conscience. Sound was bleeding out of the world and his vision blurring. His tension gave out and he was knocked to his back. A violent shake on his neck didn't hurt, but tickled instead. So much blood was on the ground, on his clothes, dripping from his wounds and emptying from his veins that his nerves couldn't function. His brain said he was receiving pain, but he only felt as though his body was asleep. His eyes slowly and tiredly witnessed a long tissue of red-stained muscle dangling between the blackened teeth of his murderer. The eyeballs rolled into the sockets and he plunged into a permanent coma.

_"There goes First Blood."_ Zed said as he made his way to Thresh's lane through the forest.

_"Don't worry about it."_ Damien replied bitterly.

_"Come, Zed, they are advancing upon me and are unaware."_ Thresh beckoned.

Thresh routinely swung the bladed end of his chain and launched it forward as Syndra and Malzahar shot towards him. The chain wrapped around Syndra's chest and the blade stabbed into her sternum. Her mouth agape, she was left breathless. Her body's velocity gained as Thresh pulled her forward. Zed catapulted out of the trees with perfect timing and tackled Malzahar to the dirt.

With her body at Thresh's feet, Syndra raised an open palm and clenched it shut. An odd gust of wind whipped over Thresh. A sphere of black mass was hurled from the sky. Thresh jumped and pulled his chain toward the point of impact. The crunch of many bones whistled in the air above Syndra as the black sphere dropped onto her legs. The Chain Warden kicked her body over and placed a foot on her stomach. He used it as a weight while he pulled the chain and tightened its cage on Syndra. The blade in her sternum dug deeper.

"A pity I couldn't hear you scream…" he whispered to her and held out his lantern.

The chamber opened and a million ghostly whispers and terrifying screams could just barely be heard by its new victim. Syndra's eyes darted back and forth between the open lantern and its holder in fear. Thresh chuckled softly and caressed the side of her cheek with a cold finger.

Zed rolled from Malzahar after tackling him and stood from the ground. With great speed, he pulled two razor shurikens of red and black and launched them toward his opponent. They danced under Malzahar's feet as he levitated from the ground. Malzahar muttered something in a speech that clearly wasn't English. His tongue made sounds that Zed never imagined could be heard. Zed looked into the Void Prophet's eyes and saw many horrors. Almost a second later, deep whispers of a low bass spoke in the same language but it wasn't sound; it was in his head. Shots of other-worldly structures and statues whisked in and out of his vision. Pain was stabbing at the inner workings of his eyeballs. The purple phenomena that usually hovered about Malzahar was contaminating the space around Zed's visage. Before he realized what he was doing, his forearm was hovering around his neck with the blade coming within millimeters of his skin.

He fought his instincts and the visions began to fade. He lowered his forearm and sighed a deep breath of relief, but it was short lived. Malzahar's arms outstretched to the sky and he bent down taking his arms with him as though he were ripping drapes from a window. Two tears in the world appeared on each side of Zed. The very fabric of Summoner's Rift was ripped from its 'seams' and beneath was the Void. The two rips connected and decimated the standing corpse of Zed.

Malzahar's victory was short lived, however. The hooked chain was bulleting towards the levitating Prophet and aiming for his heart. The links of the ghostly chain wrapped around his body and constricted him. His body was slowly cranked towards Thresh. The Chain Warden bent down and stared at his captive. Staring into his eyes, the miasmic energy glared into view. Visions of structures of impossible geometry, statues of twisted idols, and creatures of alien form flashed into Thresh's eyes. He merely chuckled.

"You fool! Do you really believe that can affect _me_? I am the very definition of horror!"

Malzahar hissed in his other-worldly language and spat up toward Thresh's skeletal face.

"Do you want to know something, my new friend?"

Malzahar only struggled to free himself from the chains wrapped around his arms.

"I… _relish_ the idea that a champion like you or I can kill one another and still see each other again."

His captive gave him a questioning look.

"Oh, don't think I want to see your disgusting image. No… No… I just want to _hurt_. I can whip you, I can cut you, I can break you… and when I finally decide to kill you, I can turn around and do it again." Thresh grinned.

"Of course," he added, "physical pain isn't always the best choice… True torture happens in the mind."

He took out his lantern and opened the hallowed chamber once more.

"You want to see some _real_ visions?"

The ghastly and glowing lantern inched slowly to Malzahar's face. He began to violently continue his struggling. Thresh's skeletal hand gripped his upper neck and forced him still. The bony fingers jabbed under his jaw. Thresh began to laugh hysterically.

"Let's see what cuts into your brain…" The voices from the lantern faded into audibility.

"_Bullshit!_ That monster's invincible!" Graves was yelling in regards to his rifle's inability to inflict any damage on the towering Cho'Gath.

The bullets smashed into the skin, but were crushed against its impenetrable qualities and fell to the dirt. Cho'Gath only seemed to take any damage when Shyvana would slice into him with her special claw-like weapons attached to her gauntlets. But even so, Soraka would wave her cosmic staff and light energy would caress the wounds and heal the monster. Frustration was quickly turning to fury deep in Shyana's blood. Soon it would boil and then this beast would fight its true adversary.

"We should probably kill the goat-girl first." Shyvana suggested.

"Thank you, princess," Graves replied sarcastically, "I couldn't figure out that much."

Shyvana shot an expression of fire at her partner and curled her lip in displeasure.

"I've got this 'un," Graves said and pulled a small canister from his pocket.

He loaded it into his gun and began to aim.

"Get ready, sunshine." And he fired.

It twirled in the air and landed in front of the colossal Cho'Gath. Shyvana chased for it. An explosion blasted through her ears and thick smoke billowed from the point of impact. She charged through it. The smoke was too thick and Shyvana couldn't find Soraka through the field of smog. The shadow of a gigantic leg appeared nearby. She clenched her gut and launched herself from the ground. Her fury and her might flamed over her right gauntlet as she flew upwards. Shyvana's hand sliced through skin and cut downwards from Cho'Gath's mighty shoulder. She ripped through the unrealistic muscle and tissue and coated herself in black ichor. The severed arm hit the ground with its owner screaming violently. Shyvana quickly backed out of the smoke grenade's radius and found her side by Graves. The clouds cleared.

Cho'Gath was stamping across the ground in rage and screaming in pain. A hose of black jetted out of the stub of his shoulder and onto the limp limb lying carelessly below him. Soraka was kneeling by the impossibly jointed elbow and tapping it with the apex of her staff. One soft finger touched the bleeding end and lifted some blood from it. It evaporated into the air and the arm began to rise. She was chanting slowly in whispers and looking to the dark sky full of stars. The arm attached itself to the screaming behemoth's shoulder and began to pulsate. Tissues connected to tissues and the blood began to flow inside of it once more. The monster quieted down and began to taunt in the same other-worldly language that Malzahar had used. He then charged toward his opponents.

Shyvana rolled out just in time. However, Graves was yanked from the ground by one giant's arm. Cho'Gath unclenched his jaws and roared. Large amounts of saliva splattered on Graves's vulnerable face. He was thrown upwards, and then caught between the rotted teeth of the Void avatar. Gore splattered from the gashes left by Cho'Gath's teeth and rained upon the ground below.

"Well shit…" Shyvana cursed under her breath.

The monster stomped one leg on the ground. A small rumbling noise sounded under Shyvana and millions of spikes erupted from the dirt. Before she could yell out in pain, they penetrated her body and held her still in the air.

A few towers were taken after even fewer skirmishes. After each lane was won or lost, the two teams finally began to group and push for their objectives. Engagements were constantly tried by Warwick's team, but Zed and his companions all concurred to the notion to stay as far away from the enemy team as possible. Any chance for Cho'Gath to get near them was a chance to be heavily avoided. Eventually, they split up and tried to push at all three tower locations in an effort to try and catch one off guard to get an advantage.

After Shyvana had sacrificed herself to take a tower for her team, she respawned nearly ten minutes later. She was making her way down the lane when Zed called.

_"They're closing in on us. Get your ass over here NOW!"_

_Oh fuck…_ she thought and broke into a sprint.

The Moon shined in the sky like a silver coin. It was almost full. Warwick let out a long and low howl and broke the chains on the beast inside. Outnumbered and with no options left, Zed commanded his team to stand and fight until Shyvana could arrive. Cho'Gath sluggishly lagged behind the rest of the team as they advanced toward their opponents.

Damien's crescent-knife enlarged and his eyes began to gleam. Shadows of Zed gathered into forms and stood beside him. Thresh wound the chain from his torso and held the hooked blade in one hand and his hallowed lantern in the other. Graves reloaded his gun carelessly. Shyvana was a quarter the way there.

"Let's see what we can do…" Zed challenged, and they all readied for battle.

Dark spheres materialized around the battlefield but missed its targets. Nevertheless, their owner, Syndra, picked them up individually and launched them. Rips in reality tore around the air where Malzahar's enemies stood and collapsed almost immediately. Warwick howled and recklessly clawed wherever he could wound somebody. Soraka stood back and mended any wounds of her allies. Cho'Gath screamed terrible screams and summoned vorpal spikes from other realms to strike random areas on the battlefield in hopes of killing something.

Damien launched himself from his position toward the floating Void Prophet. He held his dagger at the ready with the blade backward. His hood billowed but ceased when he stopped himself from moving. A large circular area of the ground was ripping under him. A pitch black hole in which no light could enter was pulsating the purple-like phenomena commonly associated with the Void. Damien stepped in before he could stop himself and he fell. But not physically. The phenomena wrapped over his feet, and then his shins, and eventually he was covered in it. Malzahar held his hands outward and clenched them into fists. The phenomena shot from his eyes and fed the mass that covered Damien.

After what felt like an eternity to Damien, the process was halted. Zed had thrown himself onto Malzahar and broke the connection. The circular rip dissolved into obscurity and Damien fell to the ground. A mass of spheres were hurled toward Zed and Malzahar and narrowly missed. Seeing his chance, Damien raced toward his companion and slew his opponent quickly. Just by Malzahar's corpse Zed was bombarded with one of the masses of energy Syndra had launched. He fell to the ground and was knocked flat by another sphere that materialized just above him. Syndra came closer and threw her arm out. The spheres that orbited her and the ones that were tossed lazily to the ground all lifted and shot like a cannon toward Zed. Damien took his blade and ran for Syndra, but his friend had already been annihilated.

"_Scatter, weakling!_" Syndra yelled and shoved both of her arms forward.

A strange force of energy pushed Damien onto his back. Damien clenched his jaw and his teeth ground together painfully. With a small flash, he disappeared. Syndra flinched in surprise just before Damien flickered into appearance and gashed the side of her cheek. She drew herself back and smacked a palm on her face. The blood slowly leaked out and licked her hand. More spheres lifted from the ground and orbited around her in an effort to protect her. Damien flickered once more and cut deep into her lower neck near the collar bone. She fell onto her leg and collapsed to the ground. The balls followed suit and slammed to the dirt. One last time, Damien flashed just above her and landed on her gut. Syndra gasped and lost her wind. The crescent-knife was planted directly in the center of her neck. With one last stretch of effort, she lifted her open palm and closed it. The air spun into itself in Damien's stomach. An odd pressure was rising, and then it ruptured. The air had imploded and another sphere materialized in the explosion of blood and tissue coming from his shirt. He fell lifelessly on top of Syndra who eventually bled to death.

"Just you 'n' me, buddy" Graves said at Thresh's side.

Thresh grinned at Warwick who was crazily closing the distance between them and the faraway Cho'Gath who posed no immediate threat with Soraka at his side.

"Let's spread some delightful anguish…" he chuckled.

Graves cocked an eyebrow at him.

Warwick was snarling and snapping his jaws as he clawed viciously at Thresh's torso. The Chain Warden was knocked to the ground with the wolf-man ripping at him. The leather he was wearing was tearing violently but no pain seemed to be in the face of the fallen.

"Try again." He grinned and quietly taunted.

The werewolf roared and bellowed saliva and snot onto the bony face of Thresh. Graves stepped forward and kicked the beast in the ribs with his boot. It rolled from Thresh and snarled at its attacker.

"_Let me taste your entrails!_" it spoke vehemently.

Graves cocked his rifle and aimed. Warwick stood and flexed his hands. The claws seemed to grow longer. He took a step closer. Graves pulled the trigger. Warwick staggered, but took another step forward. A shell flipped from the barrel and bounced to the ground. A smoking hole was left in the upper chest of the werewolf. Another step. Graves pulled the trigger again. Its target only staggered again. But this time he broke into a run. Graves pulled the trigger a final time, but the chamber was empty. The click sounded so loud and significant.

"Shit…" Graves cursed and was forced to the ground with claws and teeth ripping at his guts.

Thresh threw his chain and hook toward Warwick. The blade lodged itself just above the back but under the neck. Warwick yelped and held still.

"Ya lil' fucker!" Graves said through the endless pain in his body.

He flicked a special switch under the barrel of his rifle and poked the barrel's ends to the face of Warwick.

"Tell me what hell's like, ya sick dog," and shot.

The werewolf's corpse was lying on the ground by Graves with a smoking hole in the side of its face. Steaming blood was pooling around by Graves's feet. His life, too, was slowly fading.

_"Don't worry, Graves, Thresh! I'm here!"_ Shyvana channeled through their heads.

_"Get 'em good…"_ and Graves closed his eyes.

Thresh yanked the blade from Warwick's still backside and stared toward Cho'Gath who stood only tens of yards away.

_"Please tell me you'll make it within two minutes. That thing is bigger than a tree."_

_"I'm working on it!"_ Shyvana sounded irate.

This was good. Her blood was boiling. The battle would soon be won.

_"We're counting on you two,"_ Zed said calmly, _"this decides the match."_

Just before Cho'Gath took one more step, the small Soraka held out an arm to his leg.

"Stop, Cho'Gath! Allow me!" she called and stepped in front of the hulking behemoth.

"Stars…" she held her hands together with the staff between them.

Every gleaming speck in the sky seemed to brighten. And then they began to fall. Meteors from the cosmos drifted into the atmosphere and slowly shot through the sky. She took a small knife from her pocket and lightly slashed both of her wrists and lifted them to the sky.

"_Stars! Hear my plea! Give us strength!"_ Soraka called to the heavens above.

An arc of light opened from the sky and rained down upon her. She was lifted slightly into the air. The blood that slugged from her gashes rose with her. It turned into a smoke and wafted near Cho'Gath. It was absorbed into his skin as he watched eagerly. Soraka yelled out in pain and dropped to the ground. Her body was lifeless and the light died out. Cho'Gath began to grow. His muscles pumped and swelled. His face warped and twisted into a much more terrible horror. The teeth sharpened and his razor tongue whipped in and out of his chaotic mouth. Spikes erupted from his skin and armored him. As the transformation completed, he screamed in a high screech with demonically deep overtones full of whispers of the Void language.

Wind whipped by Thresh's side as Shyvana rushed past him.

"GET READY!" She yelled.

Shyvana launched herself from the ground with a cry. The cry gradually deepened into an ear-splitting roar as flames erupted around her like a million torches. Among the inferno shot the dragon in its true form. The hell-colored scales and menacingly black talons scorched along the jets of flame as her wings spanned and took flight mid-jump. She was still roaring as she slammed into the mighty Cho'Gath and brought him to the ground. Thresh stared in awe as the flames still burned in the sky along the path she followed.

Cho'Gath knocked Shyvana off and screamed. Spikes erupted from the ground and narrowly missed her feet. Vorpal blades ripped through the air from the Void and shot toward the dragon. Shyvana wrenched open her maw and roared. An inferno blasted from her throat and scorched the air. The spikes died where they stood and fell to the ground. The Terror of the Void ducked under the jet of flame.

Shyvana's wings lifted and she took flight once again. She flew towards Cho'Gath and chomped on his chest with her massive jaws. The beast screamed and shook her off. She was thrown into the air, but quickly gained balance with her wings. One more roar and jet of fire streaming towards Cho'Gath (who adeptly leapt from its trajectory) before she dove for another attack. Cho'Gath was prepare and lurched forward. He let out a ferociously loud scream with the same deep overtones lingering only its amplitude was risen to higher levels. Shyvana knelt to the ground and her scaly ears racked with pain. Cho'Gath stomped one giant foot on the earth. Spikes erupted from beneath Shyvana and launched her to the air.

"_You cannot defeat me, hideous creature!_" his other-worldly voice faded in from another realm.

"_Feel the dragon's rage!_" Shyvana answered and took flight.

She shot towards Cho'Gath who whipped his tail to the front in defense. Flames began to scream and dance around her reptilian body. The fire rose and flicked into the air as she raced towards her opponent. Her scream seemed to split Thresh's ethereal ears. Hell had seemed to spill onto the earth as the flames engulfed all around the dragon and the Void creature. Her menacing teeth sank into the tissue of Cho'Gath's neck and caused him to scream in his alien tone. Black ichor spilled out and leaked into Shyvana's massive jaw. It was acidic and felt like poison on her gums. Cho'Gath whipped his tail and stamped his feet in a violent tantrum. Shyvana was forced to the ground under Cho'Gath's strength. More spikes rained from small portals ripping into this realm and shot to the ground. Shyvana's claws dug into her opponent's torso and left embers burning the wound shut and cracking them open once more. The Void creature finally fell to the inferno and screamed its last words.

"_No! NO! I am the eater of worlds! The Terror of the Void! I WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOULS!_"

The flames quickly dissipated and Shyvana shrunk to her human shape. She was clutching the side of her breast and heaving. Thresh walked up to her. He was speechless. He held out his bony hand and pulled her up.

"The match is ours…" Shyvana smiled despite the cuts and blood that caked the whole of her body and the inability to breath properly.

She fainted onto Thresh who nearly fell over from the weight. The shooting stars were still dancing in the sky as he hoisted her onto his back and captured the Nexus.

* * *

When they exited the chamber in high spirits, Graves bolstered a hearty offer of paying for the drinks that night. Of course, the drinks were free as Shyvana pointed out.

"No shit, if any o' ya think I'd spend a gold piece for yer troubles, I might'a think ya lost yer heads."

Zed left saying he had other plans before the drinking began, and that left just the four of them together. Shyvana and Graves continued their bickering and friendly insults and Thresh fiddled with his lantern quietly. Damien sat in exhausted silence. He had won his first match with the team. Even though he played so poorly he felt relieved to have won. Damien let out a long sigh. Too long from now was his next meeting with Diana. He sits out every night in hopes that she'll ditch the inconvenient modus operandi of showing her beautiful face only when the Moon was full. Tonight would be no different, he assumed. But nevertheless, he pulled himself from his chair silently and left the Cantina to sit under the lonesome tree out in the courtyard near the gardens.

His assumption turned out to be a successful prediction. Damien sat alone under the tree and waited there for nobody to come. Many sighs were heaved, but also many reassurances that it didn't matter. The more time he spent away from her only magnified his want of her to higher magnitudes. Their time together would be all the more sweeter. But another feeling was stirring in him. Stirring was an understatement; shaking seemed to put it into a more accurate perception.

The Moon wouldn't be full for another two weeks or so, but something was odd about it. He slid his hand in his cloak pocket and found, once again, the sleek and cool sheath of his special dagger. Its touch and the foreboding feeling he felt from the Moon seemed to harmonize together. The déjà vu felt much more potent but still just out of reach. He felt as though the world was shaking with him. But maybe that was just a minor hallucination.

_Either way_, he thought to himself, _something's coming._

Damien fell asleep under the tree moments before the storm clouds rolled across the sky and covered the stars. Rain softly fell and kissed the earth it landed on, but quickly turned into torrents of raindrops. Low and distant booms of thunder did not even stir Damien in his sleep. The next morning he awoke to a shining Sun, clear sky, and soaked clothing. He felt lightheaded as he forced himself up from the tree and to get to the Cantina. The Sun was pretty far up in the sky; he hoped desperately that he wasn't late to practice.

His team wasn't to be found in the Cantina, so he headed to the Summoning complex of the wing and stepped into the chamber holding his companions. Shyvana, Graves, and Thresh were chatting in low whispers and Zed stood with his back towards them apparently lost in his own thoughts. Damien lifted a hand to the wall and knocked on it with the joint of his pointer finger to signal his arrival.

Shyvana looked up. "Hey! Woah… you don't look so good."

"Don' tell us you wuz dancin' naked in the rain las' night…?" Graves asked.

"Why? What's-?" he sneezed violently. "Aww, fuck…" and he sneezed again.

He _did _think it was odd that even though he stepped into a cold chamber his body was unreasonably warm. The lightheadedness he felt was sort of a blissful curse. Congestion squeezed under his face and clogged his breathing. His voice was comical to Shyvana who began to softly giggle.

"Sick or not, we have a quota of training to catch up with and I will not have this team fail because of you." Zed remarked coldly.

"Nobody said I'd sit out. What's a cold going to stop?" Damien replied indignantly.

"Keep up that spirit. We have practice to begin."

Zed placed his hand into his Summoner's and left Damien standing with his face heating up, Graves smugly following suit, Shyvana giggling at Damien's voice, and Thresh observing his lantern's open chamber.

The next few days passed slowly with the cold addling Damien more so than he thought it would. Practices were dreadful on his always-tired body. His head felt so full of hot air he could hardly keep his attention on one thing for longer than a few seconds. Any words from his friends would slowly cadence out of hearing and drift out of his world. When he'd spend his off-time in the Cantina, he'd skip meals and nap on his arm that stretched across the table-top. Whether or not his friends visited him he couldn't remember.

The week finally finished and his cold went with it. Although he could breath fresh hair freely, the eerie feeling of déjà vu _still_ had not left but only grew stronger. The odd feeling wasn't the only thing out of order. The Moon was becoming full at least a week earlier than expected. This made the foreboding feelings much more potent and nerve-racking. Damien stepped out on Saturday night and looked at the Full Moon shining in the heavens. It was beautiful, but it felt much different. It was ever so slightly shaded orange. Dark gray clouds that almost camouflaged in the night rolled over and covered the stars. He shivered slightly with anticipation as he ran his fingers along the smooth casing of his knife and found the gardens. In the dark of the night and the alien feel of the sky, the gardens still pleased the eyes. A gentle breeze waved the thickets and many flowers.

Damien walked along the trail past many cracked stone pillars with vines wrapping around them and aging birdbaths in mystic shapes with beautifully bright flowers (made darker under the night) living at their bases. Running water from fountains and the small creek danced with the ears. The many lush treetops shook and waved along with the wind that was slowly growing stronger. The gales were beginning to enhance the dawning feeling of some great event. Damien was beginning to fear this event, whatever it may be. But when he touched the knife, something seemed to calm him. He counted his blessings and was relieved to be able to spend a night with Diana much earlier than expected.

Past many bushes and thickets Damien walked into the more untamed parts of the gardens. Nearby would be the glade he usually inhabited and spent time with his lover. The running water became quieter as he stepped past a few trees and followed the creek into the small glade with the slowly rushing pond fed by the stream.

His heartbeat rose a few minutes later as he entered the glade and saw Diana sitting in front of the pond with her back to him. He froze by the tree he clung to in anxiety and excitement. It felt like a jackhammer was smashing the inside of his chest. Damien took a deep (but silent) breath and tip-toed towards her. He took a seat directly behind her and, successfully not garnering her attention, ran his hands from the top of her back downward. Diana twitched slightly and relaxed. Her face was turning slightly pink. Damien slid his arms under hers and held her tight. Diana leaned back and the back of her head laid on Damien's left shoulder. She closed her eyes and rested safely. Damien settled his chin on her shoulder and the side of his face caressed hers.

It was silent for a while. Damien turned his head and gently kissed her cheek. He couldn't shake the feeling that infected him, but he could forget about it for now. The wind blew more frequently but had calmed down to a peaceful breeze. It danced with the leaves of the trees and the limbs of the many plants nearby. The world around them was defined with frogs croaking, water rushing, and leaves rustling softly. A gentle hand placed itself on Damien's cheek and pushed him toward Diana's lips and they began to kiss. Diana opened her eyes and smiled at her lover.

"Oh, Damien… I hardly know much of anything about you, yet I am in love with you." She whispered.

She closed her eyes again and rested. Damien held her and rocked slowly back and forth. He looked up at the sky. The Moon was becoming more and more orange, but it was still almost entirely the ghostly white as usual. The sky was still mostly covered, save for the Moon, with dark grey clouds. Diana removed herself from Damien and stood up. Damien watched her stand by the pond and look up to the sky as he had just before. When she turned, something abnormal caught his eye.

The mark she had on her forehead was glowing. It was amazing, he thought, and it had seemed to intensify her already extraordinary beauty. Without speaking, Damien stood up with her and stared to his reflection in the pond. Under his slowly blowing hood and below his dark hair, the mark's twin that was engraved on his own face was shimmering in the night. Childish excitement sparked in his head and spread around his body. This feeling was odd to Damien, but it lifted his spirits to an even greater extent than he thought was possible. He felt like dancing. And, he thought, he was going to do just that. He wrapped his hands around his lover's waist and pulled her close.

"What're you doing?" she giggled.

"Don't you feel like dancing?" Damien smiled lightheartedly.

Her face went pink and she looked off to the side.

"What's the matter? Have you never danced before?"

"No… not at all, actually." She guiltily admitted.

"I used to dance all the time! On nights as calm as these, but that was a long time ago. On Mount Targon…" he drifted away to his memories briefly, but brushed them off. "Anyhow, I think it's time you learned."

"If you insist," she smiled and brought him close for a kiss.

And so he taught her. Occasionally Diana would make mistakes (whether or not they were intentional was unknown to Damien) and Damien would pick her up and their lips would meet hungrily. It was the first time in a long while Damien had laughed so much and was probably the most fun he had ever had. The hour and a half they spent dancing was pure elation to Damien, and the uplifting feeling brought on by the night and perhaps the shining symbols on their foreheads only fed the euphoria.

It was nearly two hours after midnight and the two lovers sat under the tree by the pond. Damien's boots were kicked off and strewn on the wet grass. Diana's were left in her apartment; she had come barefooted. She was at Damien's side and huddled under his arms. She fell asleep about an hour before and her cheek rested on his chest.

The feeling could not be tamed or shoved aside any longer. His elation had intoxicated him; it was no ordinary happiness. He felt as though he were outside of his body. More accurately, he felt he was drunk. However, his thought was rational and under his control. One more look at the sky revealed the Moon to be a bright orange. The storm clouds were moving faster. A low rumble flashed red in the sky. The feeling was consuming him; the déjà vu poisoning him. He pulled the knife from his cloak and held it in his palm. He absent-mindedly stared for a good few minutes before another low rumble was heard across the horizon. Another feeling spread through him. A sort of all-knowing feeling. He softly moved himself and stood from the tree. Diana didn't stir.

_It's happening_, he thought.

The wind picked up. Soon, it was violently whipping at the trees and beautiful plants around the glade and all throughout the gardens of the Institute. Damien couldn't help but smile at this… happening. Whatever it was. He left the glade. The frogs had stopped croaking and the water continued to rush, but the sound was drowned out. It was akin to time itself stopping in its tracks. He stepped out into the clearing with the cased dagger still gripped in his hand. The excitement still tingled his senses, but a scared shaking also slipped in him. He stood still in the middle of the clearing. He _knew_ he had to stand here, but, like déjà vu, he couldn't explain exactly what would happen or why it would happen.

A rush shot through him and jolted his nerves. Lunar energy rained from the orange Moon and spread around him. A split second later, he was… he couldn't find the word. 'Flying' could describe it closest. The world around him was a blur that zoomed past him fiercely. There were no sounds of the earth around him. No birds chirped, no insects buzzed, no frogs croaked, and not even the wind's rustling of leaves and plants was audible. All he could hear was the world itself shaking. And the low bass rumbles of thunder that flashed red beneath the black storm clouds.

Not even a minute had passed and Damien stood at the foot of Mount Targon hundreds of miles away.

* * *

A few hours before, Leona closed the door to her apartment and sighed heavily. She had just finished a stressful match and walked to her room with Pantheon at her side. This was the third time he had offered to spend the night together, and it was the third time she had rejected him. Every night she comes into her apartment with a heavy heart and her mind on Damien. She did like Pantheon, and they were slowly growing intimate, but she couldn't forget her love. And she reminded herself each night. And so she would turn down her new lover. Pantheon would say he understands, but she knew he was growing frustrated.

But tonight something was different. An odd feeling grasped her that she could not explain. It was a sort of doomed feeling. She sighed once more and sheltered herself under her blanket. In just a few minutes she was asleep.

* * *

_Ask not the sun why she sets,_

_ Why she shrouds her light away…_

Damien stepped past many trees and rocks strewn on the dirt path leading up the mountain. His hands were shaking in a fearful excitement. In his blissfully blank conscience, all he heard was the beautiful voice of his lover on the night she showed herself into his life. He was singing along.

_Or why she hides her glowing gaze,_

_ When night turns crimson gold to grey…_

Another low rumble of thunder that illuminated the sky in red gracefully sang in his ears. He was nearing something that he needed to do. But what was it, exactly? The hallowed feeling was the only answer. He stepped out of the trees and near the village from whence he was once a citizen of. But they drove his family out. And he became an exile.

_For silent falls the guilty Sun,_

_ As day to dark does turn…_

The small village was nothing to him right now. He mindlessly walked past it and further up the mountain. The feeling beckoned him closer and closer to his destination. He had known the Solari lived at the top of the mountain. In the distance he could see the luxurious structures that would be glimmering gold in the sky, but they were dull and lifeless in the night.

_One simple truth she dare not speak,_

_ Her light can only blind and burn…_

The buildings grew closer. And the feeling was intensifying. The very ground seemed to shake under his feet and his balance was impeccable. He felt omnipotent as he reached the outskirts of the Solari's city. Cobblestone paths and plazas were decorated with golden benches and fountains that spewed crystal-clear water. But the liquid was a deep orange in regards to the Moon dominating the sky.

_No mercy for the guilty,_

_ Bring down their lying Sun…_

His hand gripped the dagger's casing as he stood by a statue of bronze shaped as a man on one knee with his sword planted in the base. Thunder clapped once more and burned the sky red for a split second. He ripped the knife from its sheath. With shaking hands he held it over the statue's head. He let out a sharp yell and brought the blade down. It jammed into the stone almost too easily.

_Blood so silver black by night,_

_ Upon their faces pale white…_

He stood in front of his former home out by the small village, exiled from the rest of the cottages on the other side of the forest. His arm lifted to the Moon and then sliced downward. A loud bang issued through the air and the house was set ablaze. Rain began to fall in torrents over the burning grass. Red flashes and loud slams of thunder appeared in quick succession. He turned and pulled his hood over his head. He inhaled one last intake of air and left Mount Targon.

_Cruel Moon bring the end,_

_ The dawn will never rise again…_

* * *

Hundreds of miles away Leona awoke with a start in her bed. She had a nightmare, but what it entailed she could not remember. She stood from the bed and wrapped her arms under the bra holding her breasts. Cold beads of sweat developed near her forehead and she shivered. Slow thunder was banging from far away, but no rain would fall near the Institute tonight. She made her way to the only window in the room and her heart nearly stopped.

Up in the sky: the Moon was blood-red.


	8. Chapter 7 - Intermission

**Chapter 7 – Intermission**

Before she had fallen asleep for the second time the night before, Leona brooded over a venomous feeling in her that was created by the sight of the peculiar lunar eclipse. She couldn't help but think it was an omen of the dangerous kind. She was awake for approximately half an hour before the peculiar eclipse had ended, allowing the Moon to return to its ghostly white and for her breathing to calm down. Coincidentally, she had awoken from her nightmare almost immediately after the antique knife of Damien's pierced the stone skin of the skull of the Solari's statue; although this was a detail she would never know for herself. But in that split second between her sleep and awakening, it felt as though the earth itself had tumultuously shaken. It was a feeling that held no mutuality as everyone else in the world had not stirred.

Nevertheless, the dawn had arrived. The sweet chirping of birds spread through the grounds, many small gusts of soft wind rustled the leaves and appendages of the plants all around the Institute, and the Sun shone brightly in the window of Leona's apartment. She stirred early in the morning and eventually opened her eyes to the shining rays of light that spread out and made their home in Leona's room. A small gap in the barely-open window let in the cool breeze of the ending winter season into the room and motivated her to stand from her bed to close it. She ran her hands through her messy hair and made her way to the small kitchen area of the apartment. Out of one of the few cabinets above her counters she pulled a small kettle and filled it with water from her tap. After setting it over a small gas fire from the stove top, she stepped from the kitchen and into the bathroom.

White-noise calmed her when the water spurted from the shower head and splashed loudly against the tiled base. Slowly and tiredly she slipped her clothing off and stepped behind the curtain as the water gradually warmed up. She sighed heavily and let the soothing streams run through her hair and down her body. Goosebumps prickled over her arms as the hot water collided with her cold skin.

When she stepped out minutes later, the kettle just outside the bathroom was whistling. She wrapped a towel around herself and raced into the kitchen. After setting a small amount of tea leaves in a cup, she took the whining kettle from the stove top and poured the boiling water over the leaves. There was a click and a small plop as a letter was slid through the mail port in the apartment door. Leona set the kettle onto a different stove-top to cool and made her way to the bureau by her bed. After dressing herself in brightly colored clothes of a laidback style, she took the mail from the floor and her cup of tea and sat at the foot of her bed.

However, after she opened the letter and skimmed trough its contents, the cup slipped from her hand to the floor with a crash, splashing tea onto the wooden floorboards.

* * *

Alone and completely exhausted, Damien sat in his booth in the Cantina after dragging himself from his sleep inside the small and peaceful glade deep in the gardens. The entire night before was nothing short of intoxication for him, and the features of his actions had already blurred. All he really remembered was soaring through miles and miles of land in only a few seconds; and perhaps even the immense strength that flowed in and out of him from that strange eclipse. And lastly, he recalled slipping under the tree where Diana was soundly asleep. He had lifted her head and sat beside her. She wriggled slightly and replaced her head on his shoulders. Eventually, he too had fallen victim to the proverbial sand in his eyes.

_Hopefully on a Sunday there will be no practice; at least nothing involving intense use of anything_, he thought.

He placed his hood gently over his head and softly shut his eyes after leaning back in the cushioned seat. It wasn't a bed, but it was the next best thing when he was feeling so narcoleptic. A weird yet comfortable feeling of floating on a soft cloud above the largest ocean in the world overcame him. It was short lived, however, as an immense spike of stinging pain rammed into his face. His eyes shot open to see Leona standing by his side and looking down with an expression of the most intense anger.

"Just what the _hell_ do you have to say for yourself?" Her voice could be heard across the Cantina.

Damien gave her a puzzled look. She tossed the open envelope onto the table in front of her victim and leaned forward.

"I have been kind to you since your arrival, and I have respected your views. I even let it all go to see if we could still be together. It was a mistake, and I realize that now. But if this continues, there will be no friendship or mutual alliance. If I get _any word_ that _anything_ like this happens again, I will not yield. No pity will be given, and we will be enemies. I am done with you, and I hope you take this warning to heart. Do not make me angry and do not threaten anything of mine or of my people." Leona's face was pushed so close to Damien's that he could almost feel the heat from her anger radiating from her reddening cheeks.

She gave him one last disdainful glare and then marched out of the Cantina with her head a boiling pot of mixed emotions. Damien looked after her, confused. Something warm was rising in his belly and his head began to swim. Leona had yelled at him; this had never happened before, as far as he could remember. It was a sort of shameful experience, but at the same time, he felt… turned on? He felt embarrassed at his own thoughts and turned his attention to the abandoned letter on the table.

* * *

_To our Avatar,_

_ First and foremost, we regret to inform you of some hallowing news. It is not grave; you shall do no mourning any time soon. But it has come to our attention that late last night, during an unusual eclipse of the Moon, an evil soul infiltrated our innocent city and vandalized the very symbol of our society. The First Avatar was desecrated with a peculiar knife stabbed into his bronze skull. It is jeweled with Moonstones._

_ Also, there was a fire that had started from somewhere just outside the nearby forest. Its origin was charred beyond recognition. We regret the fact that we do not know what once stood there, but the blaze had spread rather quickly and took down many trees and plants before dissipating completely. We do not know if the two incidents are related, but it would be wise to not completely write off such a conclusion. _

_ Lastly, and most chillingly, there is a message written just under the First Avatar's base in front of the plaque. It reads "Know what is coming; for you have brought this upon yourselves." It is written in red, presumably in blood. We hope dearly that it is not from one of our own._

_ We hope you are doing well, Avatar, and we wish you all the best. Do not let this worry you or influence your endeavors. We will hold just fine._

_May the Dawn bring you light;_

The Council of the Solari

* * *

Below the message was a list of names; each one belonging to a councilmember. The realization hit Damien like a truck to his face. He searched his cloak for the chilled sheath of his dagger but found nothing. A searing pain spiked in his left arm and he lifted his sleeve. Streaking along his arm was a long gash of which he assumed he inflicted upon himself so he could have ink to write a message.

Damien's breathing became irregular and his eyes began to widen. His chest rose and fell quickly as his eyes shot around the Cantina. He flexed his arm and heard a small snap. The scab over the wound had cracked, and fresh blood was oozing slowly out of the dam of his skin. He quickly tried to replace the sleeve over his gash but accidentally scraped it with his fingernails and bit hard on his bottom lip to stifle an outburst of pain. While convulsively breathing, he launched himself from the bench and ran for his apartment.

He rudely bashed into and knocked down the unfortunate robed people who happened to be in his way and reached his door quickly. Once inside his bathroom, he slowly lifted the end of his cloak sleeve on his arm and looked inside. After a good and sluggish few seconds, the sleeve was lifting from the beginning of his gash. The cloak peeled from the blood-caked start of the wound, causing Damien to gasp in horror and drop the clothing back over it. He grasped both sides of the white sink under the mirror, and stared directly into his own eyes. He took a deep breath and started to remove his cloak.

After his cloak was tossed, with some degree of panic, onto the floor, he slowly and carefully took off the black shirt hugging his torso. The entire left sleeve was already damp. When the shirt was discarded, his eyes shifted to the most unusual thing in the mirror: his gash. The entirety of his arm was caked in dried blood, and was slowly being covered with the oozing blood consisting of red and black coloring. It contrasted deeply with the pale of his overall skin color. He swallowed audibly, the action providing little relief to his dry throat as his breaths continued to come in harsh pants.

It wasn't long before he began to feel drained. The world was becoming hazy as he stared into the mirror searching for sanity. He swayed, but his reflection stood still. He began to spin, and spin, and spin, and spin; yet his reflection remained. After getting one last look at his disgustingly painted arm, his eyes turned over in sickness and he fainted onto the bathroom's tiled floor.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Hello, readers. I apologize for the... well, large gap in between the updates. I do have a lot going on such as a job, schooling, etc (all those juicy excuses).

First: Thanks for reading to those who are new, and thanks for continuing with my project to those who are still here!

Second: Please leave your criticisms! Having only a handful of reviews definitely doesn't help me shape my hobby into a talent, nor does it truly help me deliver a better experience to you readers.

So, please! Leave a review if you liked/hated it, and favorite/follow the story if you liked it as well!

See you next time, readers. Until then, I hope you enjoy this small chapter.

- GoGo SpaceMan


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